Impossible
by keelhaulrose
Summary: A serial killer is leaving bodies around the city of Chicago, with no cause of death or evidence. Spencer Reid is at the end of his rope when a woman shows up talking about a world he can hardly believe. Can they solve the case together? HG/SR
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, everyone!**

**I haven't disappeared. I've been busy. Writing this story. It is completely done save for the epilogue, which will probably be done by the end of the weekend. So first, let me thank my beta, Maria Binger, who patiently looked over everything for me, put up with my insane writing spree, and was great for bouncing all my ideas off of. As I explained to her, I was afraid of writing a serious crossover involving characters from a TV show, since I don't think you get the same insights as you do with a book (or I just prefer books), so bear with me on this one. Let me know how I'm doing, and I promise I'll upload a new chapter every 3 days. With the epilogue it's 15 chapters, so if I stick to my schedule I'll have written and posted this whole story in less than two months. I did it this way so I don't try working on four stories at once again, and I kind of like this way of writing. I'm doing it from now on, once my other stories are all finished.**

**So, fans of my other stories, look for updates coming soon. New readers, welcome, and I hope it's up to your expectations.**

**Before we get to the story, please enjoy the disclaimer: I own nothing, I'm not making profit, all characters you may recognize are the property of JKR, CBS, and their various affiliates.**

**Enjoy, and please review.**

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_**It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.**_

**_-C. S. Lewis_**

_This scene is getting old_, Reid thought to himself.

He slid past a burly officer guarding the door, stepping into the familiar scene. A cheap hotel room. A dead body laying across the bed. This one is young, and wearing a t-shirt from the nearby college. The medical examiner will be stumped yet again. No cause of death. Just a seemingly healthy young man keeling over dead. They would check for forensic evidence, but there will be none.

There's not much rhyme or reason to how often it happens, but there have been seventeen since they had gotten there. Twenty four in total. Sometimes the scene changes. The room isn't always a cheap hotel room. Occasionally it's a bedroom in a nice house. Or in a run down house. Or an apartment. Once it was in a van. The faces are always male, but that's pretty much it. They range in age from eighteen to seventy one. Black, white, Asian, Hispanic, and one Native American. Some have brown eyes, some blue, some hazel, two gray. Some have facial hair, some are clean shaven. Some have college degrees, some are high school dropouts. Some are married, some are single, there's a widower in the group. Some have money, some are living paycheck to paycheck. They all drove different types and colors of cars. They came from all around Chicago and the nearby suburbs. The only thing that links these men is the fact they are men, they are dead in a very mysterious manner, and the rooms are locked from the inside, with no evidence of someone leaving out a window.

He had spent hours searching, trying to find something, anything, that might help them figure things out. All these men were last seen in bars, but no one remembers who they last talked to, or when they left and with whom. The rooms offer nothing, they are completely clean. The bodies offer nothing, no telltale bullet holes, no traces of poison, blood alcohol content that would be lethal, no reason for these men to be dead. A couple of these may have never attracted attention, but this many is too much for coincidence.

Hours of searching had revealed a couple cases with similar MOs. The most high-profile of these was in England nearly sixty years ago. A man and his parents had been found dead in their home, horror written across their faces, no cause of death ever found. And the room had been locked from the inside. Same as all these.

The city was in a near panic. Bars had reported their attendance and sales dropping like stones. Taxi drivers had been doubling up, willing to split costs and work extra shifts than be caught riding alone. Men have been moving in a pack rather than individually. Even the guys in the tougher parts of the city have been weary of moving alone. But people screw up. Plans fall through. And alcohol is a great way to make people forget how cautious they were being about something.

And so it continued. Sometimes it was five days between murders. Sometimes one. It seemed to be escalating. And they trooped out to each new body, carrying all their gear to look for that piece of evidence that was never there. Just one little hint to break the case. Anything.

There had never been so much pressure on them to create a profile, and they had never been as unable to do their jobs as they were on this case. The unsub gave them nothing to work with. They argued even the most basic points, with half the team thinking it was obviously a woman, the other half saying that historically it was more likely to be a man. The question had been raised on whether there was even a killer here.

Spending the majority of their time around each other arguing was starting to become draining, and they couldn't wait until they got to break for the day and get away from each other. They all handled their alone time differently- reading, dining alone, but they stayed away from bars, and treated every new person with suspicion.

Spencer Reid looked like he might be about to crack from the stress. He had tried color-coding his maps in almost every way imaginable- by race, by hair color, by age, by occupation, looking for anything, but no pattern stood out to him. There was no comfort zone, anywhere and everywhere seemed to be the unsub's preference. There was no way to predict where the next victim might be picked up from or found, every time he caught a glimpse of a pattern the unsub threw him a curveball. Some of the crime scenes were blocks from the bars where the men were last seen, some were across the city.

"What do you think, Reid?" Derek Morgan asked him.

"I think we need to empty the city of Chicago," he muttered back under his breath.

"Short of that."

"Close all the bars."

"Anything about the scene?"

"It appears to be the same as all the other ones. Dead body, no visible cause of death, door locked and bolted from the inside, no evidence. You know this. What do you want me to tell you?" he snapped. He slammed his notebook shut and walked out. There was nothing for him there, let the Chicago PD take care of it. It was ten-thirty at night, and he had been working since three in the morning. He had done seventeen-plus hour days since they had got to Chicago, and he was the last one to throw in the towel and leave a scene early to get some time to himself. But it was that time.

"I'll see you in the morning," he muttered as he strode past Hotchner.

"I'll call if I need you," he replied in a low voice.

He mumbled an unintelligible response, but his phone would be turned off as soon as possible. This was his time, to hell with going back to the same damn scene. He walked around the corner and hailed a cab. As he climbed in the backseat he noted there were two people in the front, and a crudely installed surveillance camera recording him.

"Is there a decent place to eat open at this time of night?" he asked sharply.

"What's your food preference?" the driver asked.

"Something quiet. Anything quiet."

They drove for a while before coming to a stop in front of an Italian restaurant. He paid the drivers, tipped a couple extra dollars, and hurried inside. The dining room was dimly lit, half-full, with a quiet hum of dozens of hushed conversations. A hostess appeared quickly, and as they walked through the dining room he could tell many of the conversations were about the killer lurking somewhere in the city. He was seated at a booth concealed in a nook, and he sat with his back against the high wall and felt comfortable. For the first time since he got to Chicago he didn't feel like he needed to keep watching over his shoulder.

He watched the diners as he slowly finished a bowl of soup and started waiting for his entree. He allowed his mind to stray from bodies and unsubs and crime in general. He started to think about his mother. He hadn't written her in three days, and it was killing him inside. He would have to make sure he wrote her a long letter before...

The soft clicking of heels on the hardwood floor was his first alert that someone was coming. At first he thought it was the waitress, but he remembered she was wearing sneakers. Before he had a chance to guess again a pretty brunette woman slid into the bench facing him. She was dressed to fit in- a pair of nice slacks, a black top, and a nondescript purse. Her brown eyes were warm yet stern, and it was easy to see that she was feeling some decent level of stress. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, a pit growing in his stomach.

"It would help us to not draw attention if you stop looking at me like I'm about to kill you. I assure you that I'm not," she said in a low voice, her smooth British accent coming through.

"I... I'm... I'm sorry," he muttered, biting his lips together to avoid staring at her open mouthed, his eyes scanning her, trying to remember every detail he possibly could.

"I understand how my presence is probably making you nervous," she smiled at him, like he was nothing more than an old friend. "The whole situation is rather unorthodox. However, you and I are striving for the same goals."

"What goals would those be?" he asked.

"Catching this... what did your team call it? Unsub. I like that. I'll probably start calling them that when I get back to the Ministry."

"You're hunting the unsub, too?" he asked, trying to conceal his shock.

"I, like you, have been called in especially to work on this case. We have fifteen Aurors working on this case, and whoever they are they're making things difficult. Normally they would be bragging, or at the least be giving us a hint as to why they are . All we can figure out is they're probably anti-Muggle, since that's all they've been killing."

He could feel the confusion across his face. None of what was coming out of this woman's mouth made sense, but he couldn't help but think that whatever nonsense she was talking was the key in finding their unsub.

"You've got quite the impressive set of boards up in the office at police headquarters. Very organized. I like that. Two boards dedicated to victims, one with the map, one dedicated to possible links between victims. But that last one is pretty blank."

"That's where we'd put the known information about the unsub," he muttered, becoming more scared by the second. This woman had been in their work room? When? How? It was in the middle of Police Headquarters. Surrounded twenty-four hours a day by policemen who had been told that no one but the BAU team was allowed in. They had been working together enough all the police knew the team members, certainly someone must have noticed this woman standing in there, studying their work boards.

"You're trying to figure it out, and I promise you, the truth is beyond anything you could guess," she chuckled.

"What do you want?" he managed.

"Your help," she said casually, pretending to look over a wine list. "We're stumped, but Americans have a tendency to train their Aurors to act quickly and know how to capture rather than use logic to figure things out. That's why they brought me in, but I could use some help. Someone to bounce ideas off of who isn't a complete git so to speak. I've watched your team for the last three crime scenes..."

He shuddered visibly. He would have remembered this woman if he had seen her before.

"I'm trained in not being seen, so don't beat yourself up for not noticing me. I think you and I would make the best team. I can't explain everything to the whole group, I don't want to work with a big team, that will only complicate things. The fewer people know about me, the better. I want to work together, away from both our teams, somewhere where we can think freely."

"How am I supposed to know that you are really part of some team, and not the unsub?"

"That's a more than fair assumption. I haven't told you much of anything you can verify. What can I tell you that would put you more at-ease about meeting with me?"

"We could start with a name."

"Hermione Granger," she smiled warmly. "I'd shake your hand, but seeing as we've been sitting here a good five minutes that may look a little strange."

He shook his head, struggling to find what to ask.

"If it would make you more comfortable, I'll give you two things. The first will be waiting for you in your hotel room. Check the drawer of the night table on the right hand side of your bed. There will be a little more detailed information about me there, as well as my address and several photos. You can run those through whatever programs you can think of, it'll verify that I am who I say I am. I live among Muggles, so my drivers license and all that should be accessible. I know you can't really trust what I give you, but hopefully this will spark enough confidence that you'll agree to meet in public."

"And the second thing?"

"I'll tell you how they died. You won't believe it. You'll check a couple dozen sources for information before you'll even entertain the thought I might be telling the truth. There will always be a hint of doubt about it unless you see it, and I'll do my best to avoid using it in front of you. But I'll tell you anyways."

"What is it?" he asked, suddenly becoming aware of his position. He had moved as far forward as he could, leaning towards her, excited with the anticipation of knowing the cause of death that had eluded them thus far. His fingers were digging into the seat, and he couldn't tear his gaze from her.

"You may want to calm down," she muttered with a smirk. "You look just about ready to jump across the table."

He quickly scooted back against the seat, banging his back against the wall.

"Better. After I leave there will be a card under your napkin. On that card will be the information I just promised. If you will agree to meet with me, write the time and the place on the back of that card. You don't need to do anything beyond that. I'll get the message, and I'll be there."

"How long will it take you to get there?" he said, his eyes now staring at her hands, waiting for the card to get deposited under his napkin.

"Five minutes at most."

"From anywhere in the city?"

"Five minutes," she repeated.

The waitress suddenly appeared, holding his dinner. "Oh!" she said, looking at Hermione. "I didn't know you were going to be meeting someone. Did you need a menu?"

"No, I was just on my way out," Hermione replied, gathering her purse. "I just wanted to say hi to an old colleague." She stood, and held her hand out to Spencer, who shook it, looking disappointed. He didn't see her slide him the card, and now it looked like she was leaving without giving him his promised reward. "We'll have to meet up properly sometime soon," she finished, eyes seeking his.

"Of course," he stammered. "I'll drop you a line."

"Goodnight, Mr. Reid," she nodded, then turned and started walking towards the door. Without a word to the waitress he lunged for his napkin, knocking it to the side. The card was there. His eyes shot back up to get a view of her retreating back, but she was gone. He grabbed the card and turned it over. There was no long explanation, just two words written in an elegant script:

_Avada Kedavra_

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_It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad._

_-C. S. Lewis_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I've got stuff going on tomorrow, so instead of keeping you waiting, I'm giving you this a day early.**

**Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. **

**Enjoy, and please review.**

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Spencer's food sat in a take-out carrier abandoned on top of the mini-fridge. He had gotten it wrapped as soon as he discovered the card. The only cash he had on him was a fifty, much more than he needed for the twenty-three dollar meal, but he left it anyways without waiting for change. A big tip to the waitress was worth a couple extra minutes to figure things out. He had been impatient with the cab driver, then rushed up to his room without bothering to stop by and say hello to the team members which were just getting back from the crime scene. He bolted his door shut, dropped the food to its current location, and dove across the bed to wrench open the drawer to the night table.

As promised there was a file sitting there under the Bible, as if it had been there all along, though he knew better than that. He gathered his laptop and laid all the information across the small table in his room. The file read like any personnel file. There was a picture of her, and the first thing he noticed was that the picture reached up and pushed some hair across her face. It had her address, her date of hire, the date she completed training, known relatives, and finally the name of her school, which caused him to stare in shock. He had an idea, but it had been a fleeting thought while he was riding through the taxi. He knew it was ludicrous to think that magic existed. But here was proof, and it wasn't just the moving picture. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Astounding. He never had a clue until Hermione had sat down at his table.

He skimmed the rest of her file. She was repeatedly referred to as 'the brightest witch in the Ministry' and 'the best puzzle-solver we have'. She was promoted quickly, and there were synopses of the cases she had handled. It seemed like in the past few years she was in-demand around the world, called by Ministries of Magic from every corner of the globe to come help them figure out their most troubling cases. She solved them all, and usually did it quickly. He moved back to her older cases, when she was a new Auror chasing down escaped 'Death Eaters'. Just the sound of that mad him shudder, and he had no idea what a 'Death Eater' was. In the very back was a folder with only one article, though the crease suggested that someone had taken out a large stack of papers from it. The one remaining article was topped with a picture of Hermione in a ball gown on the arm of a red-headed wizard and titled 'Hermione Granger- Muggle-born Hero'. It discussed how this young girl was a well-known war heroine at the tender age of eighteen, and in the couple years that had passed she had worked hard for the rights of Muggle-born witches and wizards. Now mid-twenties she was the face of the world-wide movement for Muggle-borns to be treated as well as purebloods and half-bloods, and the author gushed about how she held the position that had been thrust upon her with grace and modesty. Worried that the information might disappear as quickly as it had appeared he wrote down everything he felt he might need to remember about Hermione in a notebook he planned on stashing somewhere safe.

He turned his attention to the card, and the words Avada Kedavra. He used the computer to look up the words, but of course there was no information about those two words. Working as quickly as possible he started poking around at things that were close, and quickly came up with three things. Abracadabra, which was originally a spell to banish disease from the body. Abra Kadabra which meant 'may the things be destroyed' in Aramaic, and 'Abhadda Kedhabhra' which was also Aramaic and meant 'disappear with these words'. The latter two of these were his biggest hints. Destroyed and disappeared. Life getting destroyed or disappearing. If magic was real, and he was now beyond a doubt that it was, it was not beyond a realm of doubt that there was a spell that could kill a man with no signs. He wondered for a second if Hermione had ever seen it used, or if anyone tried to use it on her. She obviously knew how to defend herself if she was still alive.

He sat back in his chair and stared out the window onto the street below. He vaguely wondered if any of the late-night crowd coming out of the theater across the street were wizards or witches. He thought about Hermione, wondering if he could truly trust her. He stared at the picture again, and tried to ignore the fact it felt like the picture was staring back at him. He could see the thin line of an old scar across her neck, and wondered if the war had left her beautiful, porcelain skin marred in any other way. Eighteen. At eighteen he was still studying in college, trying to hide the hurt of sending his mother away, but this girl was off fighting in a war.

Debating the entire time he was bringing the pen to the card he scribbled 'the lobby of my hotel' on the back. The ink seemed to disappear into the card seconds after he wrote it, and moments later words appeared- 'I'll be there shortly', written in the same elegant script as the words on the front of the card.

He rushed out of his room and down the stairs, wanting to see how she got there. He sat on a large chair where he could get a good look at the street outside the plate-glass windows, but it would be difficult for them to see him. If she arrived by taxi he could memorize the number off the taxi and later use it to track down where she was staying. But that was beyond a long shot. Wizards and witches probably had much quicker ways to get around, able to move across an entire city in five minutes or less. Three minutes later he saw her striding past the glass in the lobby, entering through the door and making a beeline for him as if she knew he'd be waiting right there. She motioned for him to follow her, and she strode past him towards the conference rooms.

They entered the smallest of the rooms, which was lit only by the light streaming in through the window. She held the door open for him, and locked it behind them.

"Would I be correct to assume you have a wand?" he asked, turning to her. Her skin was almost a perfect white in the dim light, her brown eyes studying him, her Cupid's bow lips curved up in a slight smile.

"I do," she replied.

"May I hold it? For protection," he added quickly.

"Of course. It's not like you can use it against me," she said, pulling the wand from her pocket and holding it out in the open palm of her hand. His hand was shaking as he gently took it from her. There was an intricate vine design snaking up the side, and the thing looked worn but well taken care of.

Silence reigned for a few minutes as he stared at the wand in front of him, amazed that so much power was contained in a stick of wood. "Is it really real?"

"You know the answer to that," she replied in a whisper.

"Can you show me?"

She stepped forward giving him a empathetic and reassuring look. She slowly reached out her hand, and he almost instinctively curled his fingers around the wand, realizing that he'd have to relinquish control if he wanted to see magic, but fearful of having to give up something he just realized might kill him.

"I told you that you can hold onto it," she muttered. Her fingers wrapped around his, and he gasped at the feeling. It was too warm to a be a human touch, and he wondered if he was feeling the magic in her. His eyes sought hers, and he noticed that she was biting her bottom lip. She was confused about something, but she wasn't offering any information.

Her hand closed completely around his, and she whispered "Lumos". Immediately the tip of the wand lit up, casting a beam of light across the room.

"Oh my God," he muttered, feeling his knees going weak. The chair behind him jumped forward just in time to catch him as he sunk down. The wand fell from his grip, and Hermione caught it. She conjured up a glass and filled it with water. Moving quickly she helped him take a long drink, then put his head down until he could keep his breathing under control. After that she backed off, leaving the wand on the table by his elbow. She sat in a chair, knee to knee with him, waiting as she let the gravity of what she had just revealed to him sink in.

"Any questions you may have, I'd be more than willing to answer them," she said kindly after a few minutes.

"That might take a while."

"I have time. And stay-awake potions."

"There really are magic potions?"

"Do you need one? I can get a Calming Draught if you'd like one."

"No," he said quickly. "I'm just curious what potions are used for."

"All sorts of things. Cure common ailments, cure some uncommon ailments, keep Muggle partners alive longer so their wizard or witch spouse doesn't outlive them by seventy or eighty years..."

"What's a Muggle? And how long do witches and wizards live?"

"A Muggle is a non-magic person. Someone with no magic in their past. I'm the daughter of two Muggles, so I'm called Muggle-born. Muggle-born witches and wizards have a slightly shorter life expectancy than pure or half-bloods, but it's still around one hundred and fifty. It's not unheard of for pure or half-bloods to reach one hundred and seventy. You can see where it would be somewhat upsetting to lose your partner at seventy five or so. Dating opportunities, even in the wizarding world, are a little limited after that. And it takes a special kind of confidence to let someone see you naked for the first time at eighty."

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"See? We're not all that scary. We don't all wear pointed hats, riding around on broomsticks with flying monkeys and intentions of kidnapping annoying pet dogs."

His face broke out in a smile that she immediately mirrored. "Your face isn't even green."

"At the moment," she winked, and he felt a blush creep across his face.

"Why me?" he asked.

"Because I knew you'd believe me pretty quickly. And I don't have days to try to convince someone like Aaron Hotchner or David Rossi. It'll be my job if I try to put on a grandiose display of magic, like JJ or Emily would require. And I don't feel like trying to work with Derek Morgan checking out my arse."

"He's not as big a ladies man as he plays up. Well, he's gotten better."

"Still, I believe that you and I will work best together. You work with me, and I promise you'll see things that you'd never imagine having happened."

"Like Avada Kedavra?"

"Figured that one out, did you?" she asked, biting her lower lip again.

"I'm guessing it's some kind of killing curse."

"The Killing Curse, the only one that renders another dead without any other contributing factors. There are other curses that kill like knives or bullets, but they leave marks. The killing curse is neat, easy, quick, and, for the most part un-blockable and indefensible. Only one person has ever managed to survive it. My best friend, Harry Potter."

"How did he...?" he asked in surprise.

"His mother gave up her life to save his. Her love magic protected him. It's a very long story involving a very dark wizard. Just because I'm not an evil witch doesn't mean they aren't out there. This one we have running around Chicago has nothing on some of the ones who have been out there, even in recent memory. Killing Muggles seemingly randomly by themselves. We don't know what they're doing, but their body count is pretty low compared to..." she trailed off, looking out the window, her eyes far away for a moment.

"So, what is it we're going to be doing together?" he asked, snapping her back to reality.

"Two heads are better than one," she said, sliding back to her cool persona. "If we can bounce ideas off each other maybe one or more of us will be able to catch something."

"Okay," he nodded. "I'll do it."

"Great," she smiled. "But I'm going to have to ask a few things from you. First off, I want to come escort you whenever we get together, and I'll make sure you make it back here to your team safely. The chances are low, but if you're with me and the unsub sees us together you'll be a target. I want to make sure you're safe."

"Agreed."

"Next, you'll have to keep your gun to yourself. It won't work against a witch or wizard, it can only be used against you."

He nodded, but felt nervous. He had no way to defend himself, he just had to rely on Hermione.

"You also can't breathe a word of this to your team. I'll do my best to keep you on the same schedule as they are, but they can't know about me. The less Muggles know about magic, the better. Obviously we're a very secretive bunch. Telling you is somewhat against the rules, and I know I can trust you, but I'd like to hear it."

Their eyes locked, and for a second he couldn't talk under her intense stare. "I swear I won't tell," he finally managed to say, but he couldn't tear his eyes from hers. They stared at each other in silence for a couple seconds before she flinched. For an instant her face contorted in pain, her fists clenched, her jaw tightened.

"Are you okay?" he said, standing up and placing a cautious hand on her shoulder.

"Yes," she nodded, her body relaxing. "Sorry. That happens to me on occasion."

"Why?"

"Finally," she started, ignoring his question. "I've been to your workroom. I really don't feel like trying to sneak past the police every time I want to look over a map. I've got my own boards set up at my hotel, and when you trust me enough, I'd like to start doing our work there."

"You've got your own workroom?"

"When I work on a case I immerse myself in it. I often can't sleep. This has certainly been one of those. So I set up an area in my hotel room with my own copies of maps and information. Sometimes I do my best work at three in the morning."

"You're not the only one," he smiled. "Do you mind if I keep a hold of your wand?"

"When we're together, until you feel comfortable with me, though hopefully that'll be quickly. Things go so much more quickly when I have control of it. So whenever you're ready to..."

"I'm ready," he interrupted.

"You want to start working now?"

"The sooner the better," he said, sounding excited.

"I hope you have a strong stomach," she smiled, digging in her pocket. She produced an ordinary looking pen, and held one end out to him. As soon as he took it the pen started to glow blue, and in the blink of an eye they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As promised, Chapter 3. I made some minor alterations based on reader reviews. You're right, Reid doesn't have the stomach for Portkey travel just yet.**

**Thanks to everyone who has shown this story support. Enjoy and please review.**

They landed in between an empty looking warehouse and an 'under construction' apartment building near the river. She landed gracefully, but he stumbled, catching himself against a wall, and put a hand over his stomach, unable to stand up straight.

"Portkey," she said, pocketing the pen. "It takes some getting used to."

He didn't trust his stomach enough to open his mouth. He slumped against the wall and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. She waited patiently, glancing up and down the area to make sure no one was approaching them. But he couldn't hold it in, and rushed to a nearby garbage can to throw up. As soon as he felt comfortable enough to stand up she placed a hand on his arm and gently guided him towards the darkened apartment building.

"That's the hospital," she nodded towards the warehouse. "The branch of the Ministry is out in the suburbs, masquerading as a regular office building. But this is my hotel," she said, heading towards a padlocked door.

"Welcome back, Ms. Granger," a disembodied voice sounded as she got close to the door. It swung open, and his jaw dropped as they walked through it. It looked like one of the nicer hotels that would be found in the city. The floors were marble, there was a large chandelier hanging above the entrance, the whole thing exuded an elegance that he hadn't expected. They were put up in nice enough hotels, but nothing too luxurious. Perhaps it was just something wizards were used to.

"Good evening, Ms. Granger," the concierge smiled widely at her. "Is there anything I could send up for you?"

"Are you thirsty?" Hermione asked Spencer.

"I, uh..." he stammered.

"Elf-made wine, if it's not too much trouble. And a toothbrush," she answered.

"It'll be up right away, Ms. Granger," the concierge nodded before ducking into an office behind him.

"I hope you don't mind. I could use a drink," Hermione said, tugging him along.

"Elves?" he muttered.

"Try not to act too shocked. It'll start rumors," she muttered.

"Right," he muttered, not meaning it.

"Parcel for you, Ms. Granger," the clerk behind the desk said, holding up a brown envelope.

"Any more owls?" Hermione asked as she stopped at the desk to sign for the package.

"Well, there were a couple of gifts, but I sent them back, like you said."

"Thank you," she said, grabbing the parcel.

"Ms. Granger?" she asked.

"Yes?" she turned around to look at the clerk again.

"The local paper has been Flooing here once an hour asking for an interview about You-Know-Who. They promise they won't ask about your other case, they just want to know about the war and your Muggle-born Rights Act."

"Keep telling them to piss off. I'm too busy at the moment. Tell them I'll contact them when I'm done with the case."

"Are you really going to?"

"I don't like lying, but I might have to take a vacation after this one."

"I'll let them know, and tell them the more they harass you the less likely it is you'll keep your promise."

"You're wonderful, Amanda."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. That means a lot coming from you."

"Don't mention it," she muttered turning away and hurrying towards the lifts. She didn't look at Spencer who was studying her with a suspicious look, like something she had said before wasn't making sense, or that she was deliberately leaving something out. She didn't say anything as she pressed the button for the lift, and refused to return his look.

"Oh, Sweet Merlin!" a witch cried as soon as the lift door opened. "Antonio, look, it's Hermione Granger!" The man with her nodded, but looked away as if he wanted to lea

Hermione gave a nervous smile and slunk backwards a step.

"Ms. Granger, I'm a big fan. I'm Muggle-born, too, and you are an inspiration they way you fought..."

"Thank you very much," she muttered in response, looking down. "If you don't mind, it's been a very long night, and I..."

"Would you please," the woman interrupted, digging in her bag. "An autograph? You really are an idol. I think I have a magazine here, yes, here it is," she said, triumphantly holding up a copy of Witch Weekly with Hermione's face on the cover, then producing a quill.

Hermione shot a look at Spencer, a blush creeping across her cheeks. She scribbled her name on the magazine, bid a hasty goodbye to the gushing witch, and stepped into the lift, dragging Spencer behind her. They rode up the lift in silence, and exited on the top floor. He followed her down the hallway to the last room. She opened the door and stepped aside for him to enter.

He was even more surprised at the spacious suite. The wine Hermione had just ordered was chilling by the door, the toothbrush and some toothpaste perched on top of it. She gave him the brush and paste, and he crossed to a sink in a small kitchen to clean himself up. The large first room was isolated by a set of frosted glass French doors. Inside there was a couch, two chairs, a large marble fireplace, a six-seat dining table, and, what he guessed was Hermione's contribution to the room, several large floating boards, and he got to looking at these after he was finished brushing. Several were similar to the ones he was working off of at Police Headquarters, but there were some ones they certainly didn't have. Their crime scene photos didn't have people walking in and out, holding up possible evidence for a closer look and then putting it down again. They didn't have a board covered completely with pictures of people who were snarling, screaming, or looking dangerously out at them. A third was covered with notices to the witches and wizards of the area on one side, another set of dangerous looking wizards and wizards on the other, each of these with a colored card next to it.

"Known Muggle killers," Hermione explained as he looked at the last board. "We don't know exactly where any of them are, but we've gotten intelligence that they aren't here. That's what the colored cards tell us, each color is a different continent. We've got Ministries all over the world stepping up their efforts to catch them. Even some countries known to be havens for dark wizards and witches are helping. Whoever this unsub is, they're really risking exposing our secrets, and everyone wants them to be caught quickly."

"And the notices?"

"Precautions have to be taken. Everyone gets paranoid after things like this start up again. Voldemort may be gone, but the memories haven't faded yet."

He read the biggest notice, which looked like a pamphlet folded for quick distribution, quickly as she poured the wine.

_WIZARDS AND WITCHES OF THE CHICAGOLAND AREA_

_Please be aware that until further notice, the following precautions are in place and should be observed._

_1. Everyone, especially men, should avoid traveling alone after dark. Get home as quickly as possible._

_2. Do not follow any unknown witches and wizards._

_3. Keep wards up around your home to keep unauthorized people from entering._

_4. Disable your Floo connection before retiring for the night._

_5. Encourage any Muggle acquaintances to not travel alone. If possible escort them to safety, even if they don't know you're doing so._

_6. It should be considered safer to patronize pubs in wizarding areas. Muggle bars aren't safe for single males._

_7. If you notice any suspicious activity, do not confront the suspect witch or wizard. Notify your local Auror office immediately._

_8. Have at least one emergency escape route, and practice it with your family. Make sure all your family members who are under age are trained for Side-Along Apparation._

_9. Until further notice, there is a ban on Apparation into or out of the area indicated by the map below. Long-distance Apparations are being watched by the Ministry. Anyone caught Apparating without Ministry permission is subject to arrest and punishment. To ease travel please note the six centers for Apparation at the borders of the restricted area. Once you have Apparated to one of these centers you will be logged, and allowed to walk across the barrier to continue your journey._

_10. Aurors on broomsticks will be patrolling the area at night. Please be advised that any attempts to get by Auror protections will likely result in Dementor patrols._

He looked at her as she handed him a glass of wine. "What's a Dementor?"

She shuddered. "You wouldn't be able to see them, though you would feel their presence. They're horrid. They're creatures that feed on positive energy, hope, happiness, those sorts of thing. They leave you with despair and depression, enough exposure drives one insane. And they have the ability to suck a human's soul from their body."

He shuddered. "They'd be patrolling the area?"

"It's a precaution. They love coming to cities, though. Lots of people, lots of emotions. A giant feeding ground. I'd prefer to keep them at Azkaban."

"Azkaban?"

"Wizard prison. Dementors guard it. One of the most secure prisons in the world, now that it's back under control. Not long ago the Dementors were promised free hunting in exchange for their services, which included abandoning the prison."

"By this Voldemort guy?" he asked, studying her face for a reaction.

"Yes. By Voldemort," she replied in a soft tone, looking into her glass of wine.

"Who was Voldemort?"

She sighed and motioned to the couch. "Have a seat, Dr. Reid."

"Spencer," he corrected as he sat.

She smiled and sat in a chair across from him. Her shoulders were slumped, and her eyes didn't leave her cup as she said, "Voldemort was the darkest of the Dark Wizards. Essentially the antithesis of humanity."

"Is that the war you were in? Fighting him?"

"Yes."

"How important were you in that war?"

Her eyes darted up, studying his face for a long moment before launching into an explanation. She started with Harry, worked quickly through their school years until Voldemort's return, pausing respectfully every time she mentioned a death. She spent a good time explaining Horcruxes, answering a few questions he had, studying his face as it started to read horror. She moved through their Horcrux hunt quickly, leaving out her incident at Malfoy Manor, and finally finished with the Battle of Hogwarts.

"I'm important," she said after a long pause, "because Harry, Ron and I have been dubbed the Golden Trio. Harry had to be the one to kill Voldemort, but he never would have been able to do it without Ron and I. After the battle the three of us were hailed as the heroes of the war. We were invited to every major societal function, thrown to the top of the social ladder, books were written about us, we were all suddenly taken care of for life as Death Eater accounts were emptied and divided among the victims, large portions going to us for our 'heroic contributions'.

"It hasn't been that long. We're still famous, still recognized anywhere we go. I've tried so hard to make a name for myself, but my reputation precedes me. I book a normal room here, I get the nicest suite as a free upgrade. I get hounded for autographs. I have to be careful about where I go, because if I don't go to businesses that restrict photographers I'm followed around like the bloody paparazzi."

"That sounds difficult," he muttered, unsure what else to say.

"It's not really your concern. I may not get out of the shadow of the Golden Trio, but I do my job, Spencer. And my job is to stop these killings. I didn't want to tell you about the Golden Trio because I didn't want you to be overwhelmed, or to think that I'm important because I'm some kind of bona fide celebrity and that's the only reason I can pull strings. I wish I wasn't as well known. I wouldn't have to disguise myself for stakeouts, I'd be judged on the merits of my current work instead of what I've done in the past. It's difficult," she let out a snort with the word, "because half the time they don't care that I'm at the top of my field. They only care because I'm Hermione Granger and I agreed to work with them. I have to prove I'm more than my name."

"Is that why you wanted to work with me? Because I wouldn't care who you are?"

"No. I wanted to work with you, because you're one of the top of your field. All I care about is stopping this killer. If I give you all the information instead of just what you and your team can find, perhaps you can see what I'm missing. I'm here because I have the knowledge. One of us can find the key to this, I don't care who, I just want to stop the killings."

"I'll do what I can to help."

"Thank you. Is there anything you want to know?"

"Yes," he said, standing and putting down his cup. He walked to the board that was completely covered in pictures. "Who are they?"

"Just some pictures we compiled with the local magical school, dating back fifty years. They're students known to have an anti-Muggle bias. It's somewhat common with older pureblood families. It's not as bad here as it is in parts of Europe, Americans tend to be a little more open to Muggle-borns and magic and non magic marriages. Fifty years might not be enough. It was a shot in the dark. With the pro-Muggle feelings sweeping around after Voldemort's defeat half of them won't even admit to having a bias anymore. They'll say they felt pressured by their family or by their social groups. It's not popular to be anti-Muggle at the moment."

"Are you questioning any of them? I'm betting that whoever is doing this is still open about their bias, they may be even somewhat proud of their work. They won't admit it to their social circle, especially if so many of their fellows are considered turncoats of sorts and they aren't sure who to trust. But if questioned they will not hide their support for what is going on. The unsub will want people to see what they're doing, to see that the anti-Muggle movement is alive and well. They know they don't have support for their methods, even if they have support for the end product."

Hermione beamed widely. "See? You get right down to trying to set up a profile. And no, we're not interviewing. We feel it would be unproductive. No one will admit to this crime, and if they support the killer they'll try to hide it. We don't have the time or the manpower to hunt down every known anti-Muggle person from the nearby school, and there are five wizarding schools in this country. We could be way off the mark thinking they're local."

"As they don't seem to have a comfort zone, that may be correct," he said, shifting his focus to the board with the map. Two lists were written down the side, to the left of the map written in green was the list of the bars the victims were last seen at. To the right in orange was a list of the places they were found. "There's no evidence they're trying to stay in one area, or avoid any one area for that matter. That shows they have no real tie to any one area in particular. That may indicate that they're an outsider. But they have chosen this city for a reason. There's something that made them come here to kill, and they want someone in the area to know."

"We just need to figure out who and why," she nodded in agreement. "Which, when we have no idea whose attention the killer is trying to get, is kind of difficult."

"There's got to be something. Somewhere. There's a clue we're missing, a piece of the puzzle that's hidden," he said, stifling a yawn.

"I've got all the information, and our analysis of the crime scenes in this folder," she said, patting a large binder. "You may want to have a look. I've only been to a couple of the scenes, but I'm planning on going to the other ones sooner rather than later. It's not that I don't trust the Aurors, I just want to see things for myself."

"I think I'm going to take a look," he said, gathering the binder.

"Do you mind if I hop in the shower while you do that? I haven't had a proper one in a couple days, I've been relying on cleansing spells, and it's just not the same."

"Oh, um, yeah. Of course," he said. His eyes followed her as she opened up the French doors, and he caught a glimpse at the room beyond. A large four-poster bed dominated most of the room, lit by softer candles on the along the regal purple walls. He could see a large closet, and caught a glimpse at a marble-tiled bathroom before the doors closed behind her. He shook his head at the thought of what was going on behind those doors and turned to focus on the binder. He made himself comfortable, took a sip of the wine, and relaxed against the back of the couch.

When Hermione emerged thirty minutes later she found him slumped over the binder, having finally succumbed to the exhaustion all the recent excitement had caused.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry this was one day out of my three-day time frame. I just started my new job this Wednesday, and yesterday was our CPR course, which required a test of ten straight minutes of CPR on a dummy. That was just a little exhausting, and then getting off work and having to throw on the Mom belt... by the time I remembered I was supposed to post a chapter I didn't have the energy to go grab my computer. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again.**

**Thanks to everyone who has been showing this story support. You guys rock.**

**Enjoy, and please review.**

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"Dr. Reid? Spencer?" her voice slowly brought him back to consciousness. Well, that and the smell of coffee. He rubbed his eyes as he was sitting up. Hermione was standing in front of him, already dressed for the day, makeup on and hair in place.

"What time is it?" he muttered with a yawn.

"Nine-thirty. I figured that gave you about seven hours of sleep. I'll drop you off at the police station before I go to the Ministry."

"Is that coffee?" he said, looking longingly at the cup in her hands.

"A little birdie told me you're a fan," she said, holding it out for him. "Extra sugar."

"Thank God you do your homework," he muttered, before taking a sip. He spit it out immediately and looked up at her in surprise.

"I spiked it with a potion to help wake you up. Sorry. I should have mentioned it," she shrugged nonchalantly, as if spiking people's drinks with potions was no big deal. Which, he realized a second later, it probably wasn't in her world.

"This stuff won't kill me?" he said, eying it suspiciously. Just because a potion-spiked drink was the norm for her didn't mean he automatically trusted the beverage, coffee or not.

"If it was lethal I would have been dead a long time ago," she smiled, putting on some earrings.

He drank it quickly, and had to admit he suddenly felt much more alert than a single cup would have offered.

"Another cup?"

"No potion this time?" he asked, holding out his cup to her. She took her wand and waved it at the cup, which refilled itself immediately.

"If you need to shower, it's in there," she nodded towards her bathroom. "I ordered you some new clothes, I sort of based it on your outfit. I doubt the size is right, fashion has never really been my strong suit."

He drank his coffee and pretended to look at her boards as he debated this, but decided that he really needed a shower. He walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, noting a pair of brown pants and a button-up sitting on the bed. Hermione's room was neat, the bed already made, a set of moving pictures lined up neatly by her bed. He walked into the large bathroom, and it looked like it was out of a catalogue. Everything was put in it's place. She had set up a small basket for him with a towel, washcloth, and a wrapped soap, but the only shampoo was hers sitting on a shelf in the large shower.

He undressed, turned on the shower, and stepped in. It was the perfect temperature, and he let himself relax a little as he washed himself. He started really thinking about Hermione. He had always been a little awkward around new people, but not as much her. She was different. She didn't say anything about any of his quirks, if she noticed them at all, and he doubted that anyone trained to notice small details would have missed them. They got along as well as if she were part of his team, and he didn't feel like she was hiding anything from him. It felt strange to be so implicitly trusted, not to mention trust so implicitly, and to get along with someone so well so quickly.

After his shower he got dressed in the clothes, but had to hold them up as he went back into the main room to meet Hermione.

"A little big?" she chuckled as she saw him struggling to hold his pants up and juggle his badge, gun, belt, phone and wallet.

"Just a bit," he smiled back.

She waved her wand, and the clothes shrunk so they fit him as well as his normal clothes did. He placed his belt on and started to put his things away.

"I'll get your other outfit cleaned for you," she said as she secured her wand in a pocket and started shoving more things into an attaché case than should have fit.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"I've got more coffee for you," she said, holding the cup out for him.

"You are saving me money this morning," he said gratefully.

"Maybe I should just run a tab," she said, securing the case. "Ready to go?"

"Are we traveling by Portkey again?" he asked with the cup halfway up his lips. He suddenly regretted drinking so much coffee, as it was bound to be awful coming back up.

"No. The Police Headquarters are nearby. I've arranged transportation," she said, opening the door for him. They walked out of the hotel to where a nondescript black sedan was waiting. They slid into the back seat and the car sped off.

"When did you want to get together again?" he asked as they rode.

"Tonight? I'll buy dinner," she replied.

"Sure. Are you going to pick me up or do you want me to meet you somewhere?"

"Rule number one," she reminded him.

"Okay. When and where?"

"You still have that card?"

"Yes."

"Let me know when you're done. I'll be in this car, and we'll be parked just around the corner to the left of the entrance to headquarters."

The car pulled to a stop in front of police headquarters. He said goodbye and climbed out.

"Spencer?" she called from the open window as he walked towards the entrance.

"Yes?" he asked, turning around to look at her. She held his coffee cup out the window. He hurried back and took it. As he grabbed it the cup refilled itself. He looked at her, and she winked. "Do you have a preference for dinner?"

"Do you like Indian food?" he asked.

"I know just the place," she smiled. "I'll see you tonight," she said as the window slid shut and the car lurched forward.

"See you," he muttered, watching the car disappear into traffic. He hurried inside and to the work room, where the rest of the team was already gathered.

"Reid, man, where the hell were you?" Derek asked as soon as he walked in. So much for slipping in unnoticed. "I stopped by to ask you something last night, and you didn't answer."

"Must have been sleeping," he muttered in reply.

"I tried to call you last night, but your phone went straight to voicemail," Emily threw in.

Feeling somewhat ganged up on, Spencer just shrugged. He didn't even think about his phone not working around all the magic in the hotel.

"I also came by this morning to give you a lift," Derek continued pounding nails into his coffin. "Where were you then?"

"Slept in. It's been a long week," he said quickly, pretending to busy himself with the pictures of the latest crime scene. "When was this?"

"We discovered him last night. Bradley Tarlin, 46, married, three children. His wife returned from Indianapolis with the children, discovered him lying across the bed. He had only been dead less than an hour," Hotchner said, entering the room. "Chicago PD took over the scene so we could get a rest."

"Number twenty-five," Derek muttered. "And they're only seem to be speeding things up."

"We need to be chasing down tips today. We have a lot to sort through, so it's going to take a while to find anything credible in the pile. Reid, I want you reading the logs of the calls from the tip line. Assign us leads to check out as you find something you feel is worth looking into," he said, dropping a binder on the table in front of him.

"On it," Spencer muttered, pulling the binder towards him. He wanted to say that there was really no use, but there might be some merit to it. Their unsub, if they truly felt Muggles were inferior, would probably not bother disguising themselves. Perhaps someone really did see something somewhere, and if he could get a general description he might be able to try to find a match on Hermione's board.

With a sigh he opened the book and started at the first page. The first tip was from a psychic who thought the killer was fate, and that she had seen the deaths before they happened, and felt that the killer would start picking up their victims at Bears games soon. It was going to be a long day. He'd love to show Hermione the tip, see what she thought about Muggle psychics. The thought of seeing her, of seeing her smile as she dismissed the ludicrous tip had him fighting a smile of his own.

It took thirty pages, but he finally found something that might work. The night the twentieth victim was killed a group of friends had seen a dark haired woman talking to someone they thought was the victim in a the bar he disappeared from. They said she was dressed kind of strangely, as if she had just picked up some clothes that were unnoticeable on their own, but didn't quite match. He remembered the long robes and cloaks favored by the witches and wizards in the pictures and thought this might be something worth looking into. Not that he could explain that part to the team.

"JJ? Emily? I think I may have one," he called, and the women came over.

"What is it, Spence?" JJ asked, but then her face contorted into one of confusion. "Spencer, did you change shampoos?" she asked, leaning over to smell his hair.

"Do you mind?" he muttered, trying to duck away from her. "I ran out. I used one from the hotel."

"That's not a hotel shampoo," she shook her head emphatically. "It kind of smells floral. Like a woman's shampoo."

The whole team stopped what they were doing to look at him. His back was against the wall. He was in a room full of people who could spot a lie from ten feet. So he buried his head in the binder and refused to return their looks.

"Reid," Rossi was the brave one who spoke. "Where exactly were you last night?"

"I went out to dinner," he said vaguely.

"Where did you go after that?"

"My room," he answered truthfully and forcefully.

"Did you go anywhere after that?" he said, sounding annoyed.

Spencer looked up into his face, and they glared at each other for nearly a minute, until the tension was thick in the room. "Yes," he said simply and loudly. "I went to go meet a woman I had met while I was out to dinner. We hung out for a while, and I fell asleep on her couch.

"Oh, man, Reid," Derek moaned. "You know that most of the time I would be the first in line to congratulate you, but how could you do something like that while we're in the middle of this case?"

Spencer stayed silent.

"Spence, I've never known you to do something like that," JJ said, looking extremely concerned. "You've always been the one who is so cautious."

"I understand your concern, and I promise I wouldn't have done anything if I didn't think it was completely safe."

"You don't know that, because we don't know anything about this unsub," Derek added.

"Is that what's going to happen? Are you all just going to take turns chewing me out?" he shot back, standing up suddenly and looking Derek in the face.

"They don't need to take turns," Hotchner said sternly, coming to stand on the table opposite Spencer and staring at him like a father who caught his teenager sneaking in after curfew. "I honestly can't believe that you wouldn't realize the danger in that. If the unsub is following the investigation at all then they could target any one of us they manage to get alone. To just follow some strange woman is a level of recklessness that we can't afford."

"I'm sorry," Spencer said, trying to sound sincere. "I know it's no excuse, but she and I had gotten to talking at the restaurant. I was exhausted from the investigation, it was nice to forget most of everything for a while. She told me if I wanted to meet, she would meet me anywhere I felt comfortable in, and I met her in the lobby, but I felt more comfortable going to her room." His lips wanted to scowl at the words. While what he was saying as technically true, the implications that Hermione was the type of woman to sleep with him after just meeting him didn't settle well with him. But he couldn't tell him the truth, he had promised Hermione he wouldn't tell anyone about their after-hours profiling.

"It is no excuse, and I expect you to be more cautious about whose company you keep until this unsub is caught. If I find out that this has become a habit for you I will not hesitate to pull you from the case and send you back to Quantico to work with Garcia."

"Understood," he nodded. "Now, as for this lead," he said, holding out the sheet of paper.

"Taken care of," Emily said, grabbing it. She and JJ hurried from the room.

Hotch and Rossi turned the boards, debating different ways the latest victim might fit into the profile they had been working on so hard.

"How was she?" Derek asked, grabbing another binder full of tips and starting to look over it.

"She's a very nice woman," Spencer replied as he flipped a page.

Derek looked up at him. "Is this something you're looking at longer term?"

"You have a complete misunderstanding as to what is actually going on."

"Enlighten me."

"We just hung out. That's all."

He chuckled. "Finally find a woman with an unnatural love of Star Trek?"

"Sure," he said, pulling another possible tip out of the binder. He stayed quiet until there was a stack of possible tips that would keep them busy for the day before he grabbed one promising one near the top. "Care to take a ride?"

"I'm driving," he nodded, standing up. "You know how much I trust you."

They chased tips all day, but none of them really panned out. People noticed the slightly eccentric clothing style, and that the woman was pretty with dark hair, but no one really remembered more than that. He could picture Hermione's board, and pretty woman with dark hair described at least a dozen of them. It was frustrating, and Derek noticed how impatient he was being about the whole thing.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on with this girl? You're kind of off your game today."

"Nothing the way you're thinking," he said as they pulled back into the parking lot of the police headquarters at about eight thirty that night. Spencer noticed there was the dark-colored sedan with deeply tinted windows waiting across the street, despite the fact that he didn't contact her. He also noticed the rest of the team congregated by the door to the building.

"We're all going to go to the bar and grill by the hotel. Care to join us?" JJ asked as he and Derek walked up to them.

"I could use a cold one after today," Derek nodded.

"I'll catch you later," Spencer said, glancing at the sedan. "I told an old friend from college I'd meet up with them."

"Right," Derek said, sounding unconvinced. "Is this the same friend you disappeared with last night?"

"No. That was a mistake. This one I've known for years. I promise."

He was met with skeptical looks.

"I'll be back at the hotel later. You can wait by my door if you don't trust me," he said, backing away from them.

"I'll make sure you're back," Derek replied, looking serious. "And I go to bed around twelve thirty."

"I'll be back," he promised with a nod. He turned tried not to run too eagerly towards the sedan.

"I've got the best Indian food in the city, as promised," Hermione smiled as she budged over so he could get in. He chanced a look at the team before the driver sped away, and was greeted with several stunned looks, the whole team still standing in the same place.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: For my American readers, happy Labor Day. I hope the weather is nice enough for backyard BBQs and the like. It's really starting to get cool here, but I can still cook meat outside, so that's my plan for the day. Wish me luck on my first tangle with the smoker.**

**In honor of the holiday (really because I'm at work ALL DAY tomorrow) I'm going to post this a day early. Call it making up for posting a day late last time).**

**Thanks again for the support and the reviews. You guys are awesome. Enjoy.**

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It looked like a library exploded when Hermione opened up the door to her suite. Books were stacked three or four deep on the large table, there were books on the couch, books on the mantle, nearly every horizontal surface had at least one book.

"Goodness gracious, are we in the right room?" Spencer joked as he followed her inside.

"I'm sorry," she said, balancing the takeout on one of the dining table chairs while she quickly started clearing books off one side of the table so they had somewhere to eat. "I go to books when I need some guidance, and I haven't been able to get to a library while I've been working on this case, but I figured it was high time to go today. I checked out a bit of everything hoping that there's something in one of these that will help me break the case."

"Good thing I'm a quick reader," he said, helping her move the books. "They let you take all these out at once?"

"Madam Pince has made it widely known that I respect books, and return them in the state I checked them out in. It has made libraries feel more comfortable with me bending the rules. And not all these are library books. Harry shipped over a bunch I asked him to. I don't have a lot of books that pertain to some of the more minor historical aspects of the magical world in America. I have the major stuff, about things like the witch trials and stuff, but when it comes to family histories and minor events I don't have anything past quick mentions."

"How many are yours?"

"About half," she pointed to the books laid around the room. "I'm trying not to mix my books with the library books, so I'm keeping the library books on the table."

"Did you get your whole book collection shipped over?" he said, looking around at the books in renewed surprised.

"This is only about a quarter of the books I have at home. I had to put a library in the spare room of my flat. I've been debating buying a house so I can get a bigger library."

He looked at her in excited surprised. A woman who had a passion for books, and turned to them when she needed advice. No wonder she thought they would work together. He wished there wasn't a killer on the loose, he'd pay anything to spend a few days immersed in all the books learning everything he could about the wizarding world.

"Come on, food's ready," she said, and he was brought back to reality to see two plates already laid out on the table. They sat across from each other, and he suddenly felt awkward again. He didn't want to discuss the case over dinner, but he wasn't sure what else they should talk about.

"How was your day?" he asked to break the silence.

"It would have been better if we didn't have another body last night," she sighed. "And if the police didn't take so long processing the crime scene. We weren't able to sneak in until after four, though we didn't really find anything new. Yours?"

"I got chewed out for disappearing last night. Hotch threatened to ship me back to Quantico if I did something stupid again. I had to lie and say you were an old friend from college to get out of eating dinner with the group. I think they're a little suspicious because they saw me getting into a car with a woman who doesn't look old enough to be someone I knew ten years ago in college."

"I honestly didn't mean for you to get in trouble, and try not to get yourself sent back to Virginia. I don't think your stomach would take a longer Portkey jump, even if it would be easier to sneak you out."

"No, it wouldn't," he said, his stomach lurching at the thought. "And Garcia has an eye for details. She would notice my extended absences, though she'd probably keep it more to herself."

"I guess that's the nice thing about being in charge of the investigation. No one questions the hours I keep, as long as it's obvious I'm working hard on the case. And no one says anything to me if I disappear to the library for an hour... or more."

"I'm betting it took you more than an hour to pick up all these books."

"You're the profiler. How long do you think I spent in the library?" she asked, shooting him a smile that sent a tingle down his spine.

"That depends," he said, trying not to betray his reaction to her smile. "Do you just grab based on the title and the cover, or do you look through it a little bit before you make a decision."

"I have to look through it. It's not worth carrying if I don't see something that might help me in the pages."

"You can't tell me you carried all of these by yourself," he chuckled.

"If they all fit in my case," she shrugged. "Undetectable Extension Charms are a bit of a specialty of mine."

"Okay then, based on that I'd say you were probably there three to four hours."

"Close," she said, leaning across the table, head resting on a hand. "What's more than four but less than six?"

"You spent five hours in the library today?"

"Five and a half, and that's where we get back to the police taking forever to process the crime scene. I still haven't gotten a look at it. After dinner I was wondering if you'd accompany me there. I really need to start looking these over for myself, but after a while they just got old."

"Of course," he nodded enthusiastically. He pushed his food around a little bit before he asked, "Is there a potion or a spell or something that cause someone who wouldn't normally cheat on their spouse to be found dead in their bed half-dressed?"

"There are plenty of ways to force someone to act like they wouldn't normally do using magic."

"If _you_ were going to make someone cheat, how would you go about doing it?"

"There are two easy ways that come to mind. First would be to slip them Amortentia. It's an extremely powerful love potion, and causes the drinker to fall in love with whoever gave it to them. Well, not really love. Very strong lust, or physical love. If they stop drinking it the feelings go away."

"That would probably be something someone would notice in the middle of the crowded bar, right?"

"Whoever drank it would probably be acting strangely before they got up from the table. If the object of their desire was anywhere nearby it would be hard for them to keep their hands to themselves. It's not something I would do if I didn't want to be caught with the person."

"Okay, so that ones out. What would be the second?"

She paused as she winced, her muscles tightening as if a wave of pain were passing over her. He wanted to do something to help, but remembered that she said it was something that just happened to her and that it would pass quickly. After she relaxed she took a drink before she started talking.

"The Imperius Curse," she told him as if nothing had just happened. "It's one of the three Unforgivable curses, like Avada Kedavra. Using one is supposed to earn you a lifetime in prison, but that's not much of a deterrent. Normally by the time you've caught someone who uses them they've already secured their cell. It's just to make sure they stay there. The Imperius curse causes a person to give up their free will. It gives complete control to the caster. You may not think I'm physically attractive, but if I want you I can put you under the Imperius curse I could make you forget any girlfriend you have and make you do whatever I want."

"Two things wrong with that. First, I don't have a girlfriend," he said before he could stop himself.

"I didn't delve into personal lives when I studied your team," she shrugged. "I thought I was invading your privacy enough."

He nodded, then took a large bite of food to keep from talking.

"What's the second thing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He took his time chewing, trying to think of something, anything, to avoid saying 'I do find you physically attractive'. He didn't need things to get awkward between them. "What's the final Unforgivable curse?" he asked quickly.

Her eyebrow and her smile fell simultaneously. "The Cruciatus curse," she replied softly.

"What does that one do?"

She closed her eyes and put her fork deliberately on her plate. "It causes unbearable, unimaginable pain to the victim. It doesn't stop until whoever casts it decides to show a little mercy. The parents of a good friend of mine were Crucioed into insanity."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Just to have something to do he cleared the table, placing the dirty plates in a stack which disappeared as soon as he was finished. They gathered their things up without another word and walked to the lift. He opened his mouth to apologize a couple times on their way down to the waiting car, but stopped himself. He held the door for her, but for once she didn't say thank you or look at him.

"To the latest crime scene," she muttered as the driver looked at them. He nodded, and put up the dividing glass. They drove a couple miles in silence before she finally said something.

"I was tortured by Cruciatus," she whispered. "It's why I sometimes..." she trailed off.

He looked at her while her face contorted in pain from the memory. Unable to watch her hurt without doing something he took her hand in his and started stroking her fingers.

"When we were hunting Horcruxes, we were captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. I was chosen for questioning about the sword of Gryffindor because I was a Muggle-born and therefore expendable. Had I cracked and told them the truth I would have been killed. I almost was, that's where I got this," she muttered, tracing the thin scar on her neck. "Bellatrix Lestrange nearly killed me. Had she had time she was going to give me to the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. He would have used my body before he killed me, and the thought of that was even more terrifying than thinking I was Bellatrix's plaything. At least she wouldn't have touched me like that," she finished, and it was obvious she was fighting back tears.

Cautiously, unsure if it was the right thing to do he wrapped an arm around her and gently pulled her to him. She rested her head against his shoulder as she calmed down.

"I was captured by an unsub once," he confessed. "He repeatedly injected me with a drug that caused me to hallucinate, to remember things in my past I didn't want to remember. It messed me up for a long time. I became addicted to it, and it's been a long process to keep myself clean."

"That's very brave of you."

"I'd take the fight for sobriety over random moments of extreme pain. I've stayed clean, and with a good support system I can say I'm confident I'm past it. But you have no control over it."

"It could have been worse."

"I'm not quite sure how. Perhaps you can explain it to me sometime. But not now," he finished firmly.

She took a few more calming breaths before straightening back up. "Have you ever been told you're a good shoulder to cry on?"

"Technically you didn't cry," he pointed out.

"Close enough," she muttered. His hand remained on hers as they entered a suburb. Within minutes they were pulling up in front of a large, nondescript house at the end of a cul-de-sac.

"Thank you," she whispered before climbing out of the car. He noticed her demeanor immediately shifted back to work as they walked up to the house. She waved her wand at the door, which popped open without breaking the seal the police had placed on it. She didn't bother looking over the rest of the house, the police had done that, she just wanted to see where the man had been murdered.

"What are we looking for here?" Spencer asked as they entered the bedroom.

"Sometimes there are things hidden by magic. It's very difficult to find, you have to be pretty much touching them to know they're there. I'm hoping there's some hidden clue," she explained as she ran her wand over the bed inch by inch. "Some wizards and witches have a hard time not marking their work. When Voldemort or his followers killed they sent up the Dark Mark into the sky to brag about their kill. I'm hoping our unsub did something similar, but much more subtle. We usually look for larger, more grandiose displays, since those are what are generally favored by dark witches and wizards, but if this one chose to go smaller we may have missed it."

She worked in silence for several minutes before she started running her wand over the same corner of the headboard several times.

"Find something?" he asked, getting close and studying the spot.

"I think so," she muttered, brow furrowed. "Finite."

There was suddenly a carving visible in the wood. It was a crest of some kind, with something that looked like a dog with a forked tail wrapped around a D.

"What is that?" he asked.

"I know the animal is a Crup. Crups are wizard pets. They can be very loyal creatures, but they attack any Muggles they get near."

"You don't know whose crest this is?"

"Not a clue," she said, digging in her bag. She came up with a camera, and took three pictures of the crest from different distances and angles.

"Do you think that this might be at any of the other crime scenes?"

"There's a crime scene about seven miles from here. Feel up to go checking for the mark?"

"You know I am," he said excitedly. They hurried back out to the car, and the driver raced them to the next scene. She stumbled in her rush to get out of the car and into the motel room, and when inside she went right to the headboard. There, in the same corner, was the same small mark. She took a couple more pictures before walking back out.

"Damn," he said as he checked his watch. "It's nearly twelve."

"Earn yourself a curfew, did you?" she smirked.

"Derek says he's going to check to make sure I'm back," he nodded.

"We better get you home before you wind up grounded," she said. She told the driver she was done with him for the night. She took Spencer by Portkey to the alley near his hotel, and waited patiently as he composed himself, which took less time than his first Portkey trip. She hooked her arm around his as they walked around the corner and into the lobby of his hotel. When they got inside she dropped his arm, and he turned to stand in front of her.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said, shooting him the same smile that caused another tingle to run down his spine.

"I'll see you then," he returned her smile as best he could, then turned and started across the lobby.

"Spencer?" she called cautiously.

"Yes?" he said, turning around to look at her.

She walked forward, then reached up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you again. For everything." Without waiting for a response she turned and walked back towards the door.

"You, too," he called after, but he wasn't sure she had heard. Feeling himself blushing furiously he turned and headed back towards the elevators. Neither he nor Hermione had noticed David Rossi watching their exchange from the door of the hotel's business center. He looked from Reid to Hermione, who was striding through the door, then decided to follow her. He rushed out of the hotel in time to see her crossing the street. He waited for a taxi to pass, then ran after her as she turned down an alley. He followed as quickly as he could, but when he came to the entrance of the alley he didn't see her. He ran down it, but he couldn't find another way out. Every door had a large lock on it, and she wasn't hiding behind a dumpster. It was like she had vanished into thin air. He checked the alley three times before he gave up and returned to the hotel.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I wasn't able to update before I went to work, though I really tried. But I promised Fernsfairie that I'd update on Wednesday, as a thank-you for being such a loyal reader and reviewer, and it's still Wednesday here, so as bad as I feel about not getting it done this morning, hopefully I'm forgiven for technically keeping my promise. I get off early on Friday, I'll try to update then.**

**Thanks to all who have shown this story love with a review. Enjoy!**

* * *

The next day Spencer rode to police headquarters with the rest of the team, and no one mentioned his disappearing the night before beyond JJ asking him if he enjoyed his dinner. He could tell they were suspicious, however. Whoever they expected when he got into that car, clearly Hermione wasn't it. Perhaps it was simply because she had a driver, but he had a feeling that wasn't it. As soon as the team got to headquarters they were in work mode, and he didn't realize how nice it was to have Hermione able to instantly refill his coffee mug until he found himself getting up to do it several times himself. It took him until nearly eleven, but he finally excused himself to use the bathroom. As he was washing up Rossi entered.

"Anyone else in here?" Rossi asked him.

"No," Spencer replied, getting some paper towels to dry his hands.

"Good," he muttered, locking the door.

"What's going on?" he said, sounding nervous.

"I saw _her_ last night," he said, crossing his arms. "When she came in drop you off. That certainly didn't look like any old college friend."

He was stunned. How could he have let his guard down like that? He never would have let Hermione kiss his cheek if he knew he was being watched by a team member. Or he would have at least attempted to control his blush.

"Who is she?"

"She's the woman I met when I was out to dinner the other night," he replied softly.

"The one you spent the night with?"

"It's not like that," he defended.

"I don't care what it's like, how can you be so sure of her?"

"We were together the other night when Mr. Tarlin was killed. She couldn't have done it."

"You never know who has a relationship with the unsub, and we're assuming there's only one unsub! What if there's a team?"

"I'm sorry, but I think I know enough about Herm... her that I know she's not involved. She wants to see the killer caught as much as we do."

"How could she possibly want that? Is she tied to one of the victims? Reid, you know that's not ethical..."

"No, no, it's not like that," he promised. "I just... I trust her. Don't you think that I might be able to notice if she's leading me on?"

Rossi studied him for a moment. "I don't like the situation, Reid. I'm looking out for the safety of this team, but mostly I'm looking out for you. I don't think if I could take it if we found you across one of those beds if I could do anything to prevent it. You need to be really careful about who you spend your time with. I don't want to discourage you if you've found someone you like, but you could you put it on hold until we catch this unsub?"

"I can tone it down," he muttered, knowing it was a complete lie. "But I'm not going to stop seeing her." He didn't want to tell Rossi that it was going to be the completely opposite situation. He was just going to see her as much as possible until the unsub was caught, and then he and Hermione would move on to their next cases. Unless another witch or wizard went on a public Muggle killing spree in the United States their paths would never cross again. For one sick second he hoped that they didn't catch the unsub soon. He wanted as much time as he could get with Hermione. He didn't want to think of the day the unsub was caught and Hermione left. The day he would lose that smile, and a woman who wasn't awkward around him.

"Is there something you can do for me, then?" Rossi asked, much calmer.

"Anything," he nodded.

"Two things, actually. The first, I want you to check in every night when you get back. Just a quick phone call or a knock on the door. Anything to let me know you're back safely."

"Fine. What else?"

"I want you to introduce her to me."

"Rossi..." he groaned.

"Just so I know her name and what she looks like."

"I'm sure she won't object to that," he said with a nod, but a pit in his stomach. He wasn't sure if Hermione would want any of them to see her, he'd have to find a way to warn her. The card. It was still in his wallet. If he could write a quick note to her he could pray she could still get the message. "But you can't tell anyone else about her. I don't want the rest of the team to get the wrong impression about her."

"Just be careful," Rossi studied him one last time before unlocking the door.

"I will," he promised. Spencer slunk around him, and out into the hallway. Instead of making his way immediately back into their room he ducked into an empty interrogation room. He pulled the card from his wallet, flipped it to the now-blank side, and scribbled his message to Hermione.

_Rossi wants to meet you. For safety reasons._

The words disappeared almost as soon as he had written them. He was placing the card back in when it suddenly felt warm between his fingers. He pulled it back out and looked where his message had been seconds before. It read:

_That's not a problem. I'll make sure to say hello when I come pick you up this afternoon._

He smiled at the words as they disappeared. The little reminder that he was going to see her got him through the day, which was another where arguments broke out at almost any slight provocation. Garcia was refusing to take calls after Rossi snapped at her for taking too long pulling up information from credit card receipts from one of the bars. Derek was trying to get her to take his call so he could sweet-talk her back into a good mood. When seven o'clock came and Hotch announced they could take the rest of the day to themselves every one of them visibly relaxed. Rossi appeared next to Spencer, looking expectant. Without a word Spencer gathered his things and walked outside. Hermione was leaning against the sedan, looking agitated and speaking quickly to someone he had never seen before, but someone he was willing to guess was another Auror, a tall, intimidating looking man missing a chuck out of his cheek.

"Listen," she snapped as they came into hearing range. "You can look into it all you want to, but I don't think it's going to get us anywhere. And I can't come back and check your work right now, because no one says no to bloody Potter," she said, the last part dripping sarcasm. She took a deep breath, then said "I promise, I'll give it at least five minutes in the morning. I shouldn't shoot it down right away, so I'll look it over."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger," the man said in a gruff voice.

"I'll see you in the morning, Evander," she sighed.

"Happy birthday, Ms. Granger."

"Don't remind me!" she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

The man bowed in some kind of salute, then strode away into the crowd. Cautiously Spencer stepped towards her.

"Hey," he muttered.

"Hullo," she said shooting him a smile. "Sorry you had to see that. Things are crazy around the office. I'm sure you understand the sentiment at the moment."

"You don't need to tell us twice," Rossi said, stepping forward and offering his hand. "David Rossi, pleasure to meet you."

"Hermione Granger," she smiled, shaking his hand firmly.

"I'd like to say Reid here has told me so much about you, but you seem to be a bit of his secret. What is it you do, Ms. Granger?"

"I'm an independent business consultant," she said without missing a beat. "What I do is I go help struggling businesses figure out what their main problems are, and I work to help rectify their situation."

"So people pay you to come tell them what they're doing wrong?"

"They pay for my help. I chew them out for free," she smiled.

He chuckled. "Where did you meet Reid?" he asked, and Spencer suddenly felt nervous. If their stories didn't match up Rossi would know something was up and would call them on it.

"I went out to eat all by myself the other day. I was getting sick of people constantly nagging me about work, and I wanted a quiet dinner. I saw Spencer eating by himself, and I decided I felt like having a conversation with someone who didn't want to talk business. Sometimes you crave a different conversation. So I took a chance and sat down."

Spencer smiled. The lie was so quick and convincing that even he wouldn't question it, and he was there.

"Seems like a dangerous move, approaching a strange man out eating alone," Rossi commented casually.

"Have you seen him?" she said, motioning towards his thin physique. "I think I could take him in a wrestling match."

Rossi chuckled. "Have a good night, you two. And, if I heard correctly, Happy Birthday, Ms. Granger."

"Thank you, but I'd prefer not to think of my age," she said with a charming smile. Spencer watched Rossi, who now only looked confused as to why such a confident woman would want to spend so much of her time with the socially awkward Spencer. Rossi nodded at Spencer, then hurried off to catch a ride with Hotchner.

"How did I do?" Hermione asked as soon as Rossi was gone.

"I think he likes you," Spencer replied.

"That's good," she nodded. "Now, I'm going to have to cancel our little outing tonight. Harry and Ginny Flooed me out of nowhere demanding to take me to dinner, and he's not taking no for an answer. However, I'd like to invite you along, if you want to come experience wizarding dining."

"Sure," he said, trying to hide his excitement.

"Good," she said, shooting his favorite smile at him. He held the door for her, then climbed in next to her.

"Is wizard dining much different than Muggle dining?" he asked nervously.

"The restaurant we're going to is somewhat pioneering in some more daring wizarding cuisine, but they offer a full menu of Muggle dishes. No ones going to force you to eat the dragon tail soup."

"Dragons?" his jaw dropped.

"Don't worry. I doubt you'll ever encounter one. The only ones in the western hemisphere are Peruvian Vipertooth. There's none in North America."

"I'm somewhat comforted," he said, but he still looked surprised. "Is it really your birthday?"

"My twenty-eighth," she nodded.

"Is it really that big of a deal that you're getting upset over it?"

"I guess because I've worked in this job you think that there are much more important things than taking a night off to celebrate the world orbiting the sun one more time," she shrugged.

"Really? I find this job makes me realize that you never know what will happen tomorrow, so you have to live for today."

"Hmmm," she muttered noncommittally. "I've seen days where I didn't think there was going to be tomorrow. I much prefer feeling like I can plan more than a couple days in advance. It means that there's some kind of peace going on."

He saw something out the window, and asked the driver to stop. He ran into a nearby store, and emerged five minutes later with a small bag.

"Extra caffeinated coffee," he said, stashing the bag under his seat.

"Merlin help any woman who marries you. You may as well just move into a coffee shop," she smiled.

"It's the one vice I'm allowing myself," he shrugged.

Twenty minutes later they arrived at the restaurant, which was hidden in a large house on a private tract of land in the suburbs. There were only a couple cars around it, if any Muggles saw the outside of the house they probably wouldn't think that anything was out of the ordinary. Just another family that liked their privacy. When they got inside they were led up to a private dining area where a circular table was set out in front of a fireplace that was casting a soft glow around the room.

"Harry," Hermione beamed as she walked in the room, and she hurried across the room to wrap him in a tight hug.

"Hullo, 'Mione. It's been a while since we've seen you," he said, returning her hug just as enthusiastically.

She greeted Ginny in much the same manner before she turned to Spencer. "Spencer, this is my best friend, Harry Potter, and his wife, Ginny. Ginny, Harry, this is Spencer Reid. He's a Special Agent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

"The FB what now?" Ginny asked.

Spencer held Hermione's chair out for her, then sat down himself as he answered, "The Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"It's kind of like a special Auror unit that only works in America," Hermione explained. "Ginny comes from a pureblood family. She's not too familiar with much of the Muggle world. We try to educate her, but she's hopeless sometimes."

"My dad must have scared me off all things Muggle, because he liked to mess with Muggle stuff, but he wasn't very good at it, and it often exploded. I'm not anti-Muggle," Ginny added when she looked at Spencer's face. "I just like my little cocoon of Magical comfort."

They spent the first part of dinner with Spencer explaining what the BAU did, and Hermione explaining when and why she sought help from a Muggle with the case.

"You must really be helping. Hermione's stress meter isn't even reading half," Ginny commented as their entrees were served.

"Stress meter?" Spencer asked.

"Her hair," Harry laughed. "The more stress she's under, the frizzier her hair gets. When she was going through her NEWTs, the exams we take at the end of school, her hair was so large passing birds mistook it for a bush."

"They did not!" Hermione protested, though she couldn't suppress a smile. "It was only that one bird that one time..."

Even Spencer joined in with the laughing.

"We have a few escaped frizzy hairs," Ginny said, leaning across the table and poking at a couple hairs that had escaped Hermione's bun. "But it can still be controlled, so you must be helping a lot."

"I'm just trying my best," Spencer replied with a blush.

"So, 'Mione, I know you're not big on the birthday thing..." Harry said, digging in his pocket.

"You didn't," Hermione groaned, slumping down.

"I did. You're my best mate, I have to get my best mate a birthday gift." He placed a small, wrapped box on the table.

"For the first time since you've known me, this doesn't look like a book," Hermione noted as she reached across the table.

"It's not. I hope that doesn't bother you."

She opened the box, then took out the small card that was inside. Her eyes went wide. "Is this...?" she asked in astonishment.

"It is. Your very own Chocolate Frog card. I made sure I bought you the very first one they printed."

"Oh, my God," she said, studying the card. She turned excitedly to Spencer, showing him the card. "All of the most important witches and wizards get put on these trading cards they put in Chocolate Frogs. I can't believe I'm on one," she said excitedly, looking at her picture on the front. She flipped it over, and Spencer read aloud:

_Hermione Granger, the female third of the Golden Trio that helped take down Voldemort in 1998, is widely regarded as the smartest witch of her age. Since graduating from Hogwarts in 1999 she has become the top Investigative Auror in the world and, to date, has taken down more than one hundred dark witches and wizards, has published two books about anti-Muggle bias in the wizarding world, helped draft the Muggle Rights Legislation and the Anti Muggle-born Discrimination Law, and has helped develop the standard used in Ministries around the world for interrogating subjects._

"This is so cool. I didn't know I was even getting one. Thank you, Harry," Hermione gushed.

"I thought you'd like it more than a book," Harry smiled, but it fell shortly afterwards. "Ron bought you a broom servicing kit for the Nimbus he bought you last year. I didn't bother bringing it."

Hermione suddenly looked irritated. "That bloody git," she grumbled. "I haven't even touched that bloody broom."

"I should probably tell you before you hear it from him," Ginny started kindly. "Merlin knows he would probably do something horribly insensitive like just send you an... Ron's getting married to Susan Bones."

Hermione put her fork and knife down, and pushed her plate away. "That only took four months. Good for him," she murmured.

"Hermione..."

"Listen, Gin, I haven't been his _problem_ for four months now. He has every right to go off and marry whomever he wants."

"I know you were hoping..."

"I gave up on that idea a while ago. He gave me the choice. Him or my job. I told him if he loved me, he'd be patient about the job. He was gone the next day. Ron wants a woman like your mother. Someone to take care of him, to have dinner on the table when he gets home, to take care of him and his house. I refused to be that woman. And I lost him. I'm not an easy person to carry on a relationship with. I'm gone a lot, and I bring my work home."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine," she nodded.

"Would it help or hurt if I gave you a present right now?" Spencer asked.

"You got me a gift?" she asked, looking up at him in surprise.

"I've been to that store before, well, the DC branch of it. I found the coffee while I was out looking for a Secret Santa gift for Garcia. And I remembered seeing something," he smiled, picking up his napkin. "Mind if I show you a little magic of my own?"

"I'd like to see it," Hermione smiled at him, her mood visibly lifting, not noticing how closely Ginny was watching them.

"Nothing on either side," Spencer said, flipping the napkin over. He folded it up intricately, then stuffed it into his fist. He opened his fingers to reveal the napkin had gone. Hermione smiled widely, despite the fact she knew it was just an illusion. He reached over, pulled the napkin from by the collar of her jacket, and handed it to her.

"Open it," he encouraged.

She unfolded the napkin to reveal a necklace with a square pendant hanging from it. On the pendant was writing that said 'Peace is the only battle worth waging -Camus'. She looked up at Spencer in surprise.

"Oh, Spencer, it's beautiful," she whispered.

"May I?" he asked. She held her hair up as he clasped it behind her back. "I thought you might need the occasional reminder of what you're doing this for."

"I really like it," she said, standing and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you so much."

"Yes, well, I, um, I need to use the bathroom," Spencer said, blushing. He smiled at Hermione one more time before walking from the room.

"Interesting," Ginny said as Hermione sat down. "Very interesting."

"What's interesting?" Hermione asked.

"Spencer."

"What about Spencer?"

"He's a beanpole," Harry offered.

"You should talk, Potter," Hermione laughed. "How you pass your physical every year with those skinny little arms is beyond me."

"Don't you need to use the bathroom, too?" Ginny asked commandingly.

"Yes, dear," Harry answered, scrambling from the room.

"So? How's the shagging?" Ginny asked innocently.

"The what?" Hermione replied in surprise.

"The shagging."

"We're not..."

"Why not? He obviously likes you. A lot," she said, nodding towards the necklace.

"We're work partners. We work really well together. He's a very nice man. But like me? I doubt it. We just get along."

"And I bet you'd get along in bed, too," she sneered.

"You know you look like Malfoy when you do that?"

"Don't change the subject. Answer honestly. Do you like him?"

"Not like that," Hermione shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"What's with the twenty questions?" she snapped.

"Because you deserve some happiness, and it's obviously not going to come from my idiot brother. The Muggle man likes you, you seem to like him even if you won't admit it, why not try something with him?"

"It's a professional relationship only. Nothing more. When the case is over, we're going to go back to working our old cases like we used to."

"Is that what you want?"

"Ginny, you know what I have to do when this is over. He won't even remember me. I could walk by him and he wouldn't spare me a second glance."

"You won't have to modify his memory if you're sleeping with him."

"Ginny..." she hissed.

"It's true. Section whatever of code some number says that if a witch or wizard is in an 'intimate personal relationship' with a Muggle that the Muggle may be allowed to know about our world, at least until the end of the relationship."

"That was designed so engaged couples didn't have to wait to get married for the magical partner to reveal themselves. That's really not a good wedding present, 'honey, I love you, I'm a witch'."

"You've already cleared that hurdle. He knows you're a witch, and he's still interested."

"He's not interested!" she protested. "We're just like really close friends."

"You should be really close near the hips."

"Ginny!" she clenched her teeth to keep from shouting.

"All I'm saying is the man is completely enamored with you. Don't write him off because you're working this case together. You guys seem a lot alike. There might be something good there if you'd give it a chance," Ginny said calmly, not allowing Hermione to change the subject.

"Right now, the only good I want to see happen is whoever is killing these Muggles to wind up in Azkaban," Hermione replied with finality, and the subject was dropped as Spencer and Harry entered the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: As promised. I'd hate to let anyone down by not posting this, so I'm going to put it up now and get a nap. While this story should be updated every 3 days, as promised, things might be a little sporadic for my other stories. I just started my new job, which requires me to start a new sleep schedule, which is going to cut down on my free time/writing time. Until I get a normal rhythm going, I'm probably not going to have much time to write. Stinks, but that's going to be the deal for a while. **

**Thanks again for the reviews and support. Enjoy.**

* * *

"That's five for five today," Hermione said triumphantly as she uncovered another crest. "Same place as all the other ones, right above the head, on the bottom of the headboard, or, in the absence of that, the wall right above the mattress. Do you think it's safe to say this is the unsub's mark?"

"I think it's safe to say that," Spencer replied, taking a picture, though it would look just like all the others. "I think a better use of our time would be going to try to find what this is the mark of. Something like this means something to this unsub, something bigger than themselves, and is probably the crest of a family or, since it seems to be popular in your world, their school. If we find out what this is the crest of, we'll find a big clue as to who this unsub is."

"Back to my room, then?" she asked, straightening up and stretching.

"I'd be more enthusiastic about doing it if it didn't involve a Portkey," he said, packing the camera carefully away.

"We could always try Apparation. You seem to be getting used to Portkey travel, but Apparation is a whole new level of nauseous. Plus we have to worry about splinching."

"Do I even want to know what that is?"

"You ever get a case that involved a random body part being found, but you never find a body, and no one can explain how the body part got detached from the body, that there's no medical explination, that it must have just fallen off?"

"I think I've heard of one or two of those," he nodded.

"The person who left that body part was alive and well. They just splinched themselves. Lucky ones can retrieve those parts before the Muggles notice. If the Muggles find it first there's usually hours spent combing the scene, taking pictures, making reports, all that. By the time the Muggles leave the limb unattended it's too late to put it back on."

He was looking at her in disgust. "And you still Apparate?" he asked in surprise.

"Destination, determination, deliberation," she repeated the words from her lessons. "I studied it so much Apparating is like second nature to me. As long as you don't do it while Drunk, Distracted, or Dumb the risk for splinching is pretty much non-existent."

"Bring on the Portkey," he said, shaking his head.

They took the Portkey back to her hotel room. While he took a second to regain himself she went to the stacks of books and started rifling through the stacks of books, occasionally pulling one out and placing it on a separate pile. By the time he was ready to help her she was already carrying the small stack over to him.

"Would you look through this?" she asked, holding out a copy of 'Notable Wizarding Families of the United States'. He reached for it, and his fingers brushed against hers, and he found it difficult to break the physical contact. Her eyes slowly moved to their hands, but she didn't look upset. She looked like she was having a difficult internal dialogue with herself. Hesitantly she pulled her hand away. She placed two books on the table in front of him, then sat on the other end of the couch. She curled her legs up under her, and opened the book on her knees. Her eyes were fixated on the book, but while he turned pages quickly as he dismissed crest after crest she didn't turn the page unless he looked over at her. She was chewing on her bottom lip, and her eyes were unfocused.

He finished his book, and without a word put it on the table and got another one- 'A Quick Look at Magical Education in America'. He opened it and turned straight to the section on the closest school, but there was nothing there. He made sure to skim the rest of the book, and on the third to last page he saw it. The same crest they had found at every crime scene, more elegant in blue and silver than it was in the carved wood, but it was certainly the same crest.

"Hermione?" he asked, looking up. She shook her head as if she were trying to shake away a thought before she looked up at him. "I found it," he muttered, holding the book out to her.

She seemed to be very careful about where she grabbed the book as she took it from him.

"That's it, Spencer, thank you," she said, face lighting up. "The crest is from the Denian house at the Adirondack School of Magic in New York State. School should be in session, we can go talk to the Headmistress about this house. Books never tell the whole story about the type of people in a house. It's best if we go talk to her, perhaps she might be able to provide a lead..."

"Calm down," he smiled at seeing her so excited over something. "It's one thirty in the morning in New York."

"Probably too late to go visit then, right?" she deflated slightly.

"We could go first thing in the morning."

"We?"

"If you don't want me to go, I won't," he said quickly.

"Oh, no, no, no, it's not that," she said quickly, wringing her hands. "It's just that I didn't think you could get the day off."

"There's this little thing called the one day rest in seven act. I've worked two weeks straight, I should be able to take the day off."

"Won't your team be upset when you refuse to go with them in the morning?"

"I could fake being sick. We're all feeling a little exhausted, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that one of use just can't take another full day."

"I don't want you to get in trouble for skiving off," she muttered.

"This is better than any lead we have there. I have a good feeling about this. We should really get down to it," he said, looking into her face for a reaction. She simply nodded.

"Let's get you back to your hotel at least," she said as she put books away. "I don't want Rossi to get mad if you don't go back, and a few hours sleep will probably do us a world of good."

"You don't need to tell me that twice," he said with a yawn.

"If I try to keep you up I might as well just replace your blood with coffee now," she smiled, and it caused him to relax a little. If she was joking with him and smiling she wasn't as uncomfortable in his presence as she looked.

She took him back to his hotel, but avoided going into the lobby with him. She waved good-bye as she walked down the street, and he went up to his room trying to ignore his sinking stomach.

He didn't like the silence and the distance between them, but he had noticed it since they left dinner the other night. Something was bothering her, she was confused about something, and it wasn't something she was willing to talk to him about, so it must be something that didn't deal with the case. He would admit he also had a lot of things on his mind since that night as well. Buying Hermione the necklace had seemed like a great idea at the time, and it wasn't until he got back to the hotel that he really asked himself why he had bought it for her. In admitting why he bought it for her, he had to admit that his feelings for her were starting to grow deeper than anything professional. It felt like a true friendship, but Hermione left him craving something more. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted to see her smile, to just feel the comfort being near her caused in him. It was a new kind of addiction, this addiction to another person. He knew he had to start controlling himself, and knew that placing his emotions in the hands of someone else, someone he was only starting to get to know, was a dangerous thing to do. Hermione dealt with her confusion by withdrawing, becoming more focused on their task at hand, but he wasn't the same as she was. He couldn't withdraw from her when withdrawing only made him upset.

He thought back to the dinner, and the part of it he didn't want to think about. He didn't ask her anything about Ron, as he had seen how upset it made her, but he wanted to know more. Obviously she had been in a relationship with Ron before. And somewhere inside her she still had feelings for him. She claimed she was over the relationship, but there must be some lingering emotions there if she refused to eat after he had been mentioned. But she had lit up as soon as he gave her the necklace. And everything seemed fine until he went to the bathroom. As soon as he got back Hermione had gone contemplatively quiet, and had barely brought herself out of it long enough to bid him goodnight.

The first thing that he knew he needed to do was catch the unsub, as it wouldn't be right to be considering a relationship while they were still acting as colleagues. But he would have to make a decision quickly after that, have to ask her before she disappeared forever. How would he do it? Would he be able to approach her like that, without the guise of working together? Would he be able to place enough of his trust into her to offer her his heart?

A few blocks away Hermione was also lying in her bed awake, fingering the necklace that she hadn't taken off since Spencer had given it to her. Damn Ginny for doing this to her. She was so sure of everything before she had dinner with her friends, now her heart was torn. The information about Ron had been upsetting. They had been together for eight years, and he breaks up with her and had gotten engaged after four months. They hadn't ever discussed getting married, she just assumed they were on that track. But instead of him asking her to be his forever, he had asked her to make a different life-changing decision. He had asked her to quit the job she loved, to settle down and become the woman he wanted his wife to be. And she wasn't willing to do it. She never wanted to be a housewife. One day she wanted children, of course, but Ron was ready for a family as soon as possible. She would be the first to admit she hadn't been extremely fair in the relationship. When she threw herself into a case, she went into it with everything, and she might not even Floo Ron for a few days. She had been the one who missed anniversaries and special events. On her last birthday Ron was going to surprise her. He had Apparated to Italy, where she was on assignment, gotten some of the best food in the city, set the table up with romantic candlelight, and waited in her room wearing his best dress robes. She hadn't gotten in until after midnight. She had acted less than enthusiastically at seeing him. They had slept together, but she pulled out every trick she could to speed it up from 'making love' to 'quick shag' so she could get some sleep, and she was gone when he woke up at eight the next morning. Later he would admit that he had an engagement ring in his pocket the whole time, but it just didn't feel right. It was when he had first started thinking that they weren't going to make it as a couple.

As sad as she had been at the breakup, it was somewhat of a relief. She didn't have to worry about coming back from a case to yet another loud argument. She didn't have to keep breaking promises to spend more time together. She didn't have to detract from her work by worrying about the state of her relationship. Of course she wanted a relationship, but she could afford to spend a few years focusing only on her work. And she had recently accepted that it would be best to wait for the right man to show up when she was more settled into her job.

And then Spencer had entered her life, and up until her birthday she had been very comfortable with him. They were working together, and while it seemed like they fell easily into a friendship, she hadn't even considered there was anything more between them. But Ginny, who Hermione was all but convinced could stand up to the best investigators when it came to reading people in front of her, had forced her to look at Spencer in a different light. And she wasn't sure she was ready for it. Now that she looked at it, there were some signs that Spencer was interested in more than just a friendship, but he was hiding it well, only letting small hints slipping through. And because she wasn't looking, she didn't see it. But Ginny, who was worried about Hermione's happiness, could see it the first time that they had met. And she couldn't keep her observations to herself, even if it meant a couple sleepless nights for her friend.

Spencer. She missed their ease around each other recently. Now that she was treating their relationship solely as a professional relationship she realized how much into 'friendship' it had evolved into. She could tell he knew something was different, but she wasn't sure if he was upset about it or not. Part of her wanted to take Ginny's advice, to try something out. Perhaps it would take someone who understood her crazy schedule and desire to stay on the job to make a relationship work.

As much as she didn't want to think about it, the fact that Spencer was a Muggle factored a lot into the consideration of a relationship. Dating a Muggle was difficult enough when you lived across town, when you lived across an ocean it was a whole different set of problems. It put the burden of travel mostly on her shoulders. They both worked unscripted schedules, having to pack up and head out to a case on a moment's notice. He could be anywhere in the United States, she could be anywhere in the world. Making time for each other would already be difficult with their insane schedules, add the possibility of Hermione having to travel across the globe to get there and the idea seemed downright ludicrous.

Her plan from the start had been to modify Spencer's memory, and perhaps that would still be the best course of action, but then again, perhaps this was just the time to take a chance. First thing would have to be first, they needed to find the unsub. Their relationship might change drastically once they were finished hunting down the killer. She would have to re-evaluate things when the case was over, and make her decision about modifying his memory then. Until then she felt like she needed to relax, and get back to the comfortable friendship she had been enjoying so much.

* * *

Spencer's alarm clock rang, and he turned it off, not having gotten a minute of sleep. He managed to get out of bed, take a shower, and get dressed, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He walked across the hall and knocked on Hotchner's door.

"You look terrible," Hotch said as a greeting.

"I feel terrible," he replied.

"Do you need to take the day?"

"I'd appreciate it."

Hotchner nodded. "Just take care of yourself. We'll call you if there's anything new."

"Thank you," Spencer nodded. He headed back to his room, and laid down to wait until he was sure that the rest of the team was gone. But his plans were laid aside with a knock on the door. He got up to answer to find an irritated looking Rossi standing there. Rossi didn't wait to be invited in, he pushed past Spencer, who closed the door behind him.

"Are you really sick?" Rossi demanded.

"I really don't feel good," he replied.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Hermione?"

Spencer hesitated, which was all Rossi needed.

"Reid, this is getting beyond ridiculous. Spending every evening with her after we get off work is one thing, not coming along for a day to spend it with her is another."

"I know what it looks like, but..."

"What it looks like is that you don't give a damn about your job anymore! Give me one good reason to not ship you back to Quantico right now."

"I really can't explain it to you. I don't know what to say to make you understand that I'm not just ditching to spend time with her. There's a reason."

"What's the reason? She's willing to sleep with sleep with you, and that's more important to your job?"

"That's not even close. She's..." he sighed, then decided to tell a half-truth. "She's an independent investigator and a profiler. She approached me to throw some ideas at me. I think that she may be on to something."

He was looking surprised. "What is she on to?"

"It's not ready to present just yet," he backtracked. "She just got a new piece of evidence that she needs to look into."

"Evidence?" he snarled, his face turning red. "She has evidence that's she's not sharing with police?"

"It's not..." he stammered.

"If she's got something that could help us break this case, and she's not handing it over she could be charged with obstruction of justice, and you could be as well!" he forced through clenched teeth.

"I know that, but to tell the truth there is no way that we could get this evidence introduced into any court. The way that she discovered it is beyond imagination, and would be challenged before we could blink."

"We should have access to that evidence to make that determination ourselves!" he half-shouted.

Spencer sighed. "There is something about the information, something that I can't really explain. Please, if you just give me some time to chase down this lead. If it pans out I'll convince her to sit down with us and tell you guys everything she knows."

Rossi considered this for a moment. "Twenty-four hours," he said sternly. "You're not working with us today, so I'll give you all day today and tonight to chase down this lead and do your own thing. But if you can't bring me information in twenty-four hours I'm going to get a warrant out on Hermione, and I'll make sure you're on the first plane back to Virginia."

"I think I can work with that," Spencer nodded.

"Don't make me regret this, Reid."

"You won't," he promised, hoping it was true.


	8. Chapter 8

Moments after Rossi left the room there was another knock on the door, and Spencer's heart stopped for a second. Did Rossi lie to him? Was Hotch about to storm into the room shouting about obstruction of justice and losing his job? He forced himself to look through the peephole, and saw it wasn't one of his team members, but Hermione standing outside the door. He fumbled with the locks and let her in.

"Good morning," she said, giving him a one-armed hug. She was carrying a large duffel bag, which she deposited on the bed. "I thought I'd come up and get you, because I'm going to need to disguise you a little bit. Where we're going today is somewhere that not too many Muggles have seen. I just want to avoid awkward looks and questions, so you're going to have to act like a wizard today."

"How am I supposed to do that?" he asked, sounding nervous.

"First off, stick this in your pocket," she said, tossing him a wand.

"You just have a spare one of these lying around?" he said, examining the dark wand with only his fingertips. The thing _felt_ inexplicably sinister.

"It's Bellatrix's," Hermione grumbled, sounding disgusted.

"Is that the one who...?"

"Yes. It's the wand she used to torture me," she said quietly. "It's loyal to me now, and I was really tempted to destroy it, but sometimes it's nice to have a backup. If I'm going on a raid where I might lose control of my wand I keep it hidden so I have a wand that will do what I want without fight or diminished magic."

"That's so like Hotch," he commented. "He carries two guns in case the first one is taken away. It's been pretty helpful to have the backup," he finished in a murmur, remembering how he had used the backup weapon to kill Phillip Dowd.

"Just stick it in your pocket with the tip of it visible. They'll peg you for a Muggle-born but they won't look twice if you have a wand on you. I just don't want to raise suspicions."

He put the wand in his front pocket then looked at her. "Does this look okay?"

"It looks like the start of every damn wand joke I've ever heard. Which means you're doing it right."

"Wand jokes?"

She straightened up and gave him a crooked smile and a wink as she said, "Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"I ,um, I assure you that it's only a wand," he muttered.

"No, it's just one of a million jokes about a wizard and his wand. Polishing his wand, playing with his wand, his wand going off unexpectedly, that sort of thing," she laughed.

"I see," he said, blushing.

"Take your gun off," she said, nodding towards his waist.

"Excuse me?"

"I've never seen a wizard carrying a gun. You should leave it here."

Very reluctantly he took his gun belt off and stowed it away in the safe in his closet. When he turned back around Hermione quickly wrapped something around his shoulders.

"They're robes," she explained, fastening it near his collarbone and carefully draping it. He couldn't help be nervous as her hands ran over the robes, and by extension his body, as she smoothed the fabric into place. After the robes were on she grabbed her own set of robes, disappeared into the bathroom, and reappeared moments later dressed in the feminine robes, throwing her Muggle attire across his bed. She turned and studied him from across the room.

"The sweater-vest makes it," she smiled. "You look like a Professor's Apprentice or a Junior Ministry Official."

"Junior?"

"It's not an insult, I promise," she said, pulling out her pen Portkey. "I know this is going to be difficult, but I'm going to have to ask you to at least try to make it seem like you do this every day. You can't have too much of a reaction time after we hit the ground. We have to get moving, or you're going to be suspicious to them."

"I'll do my best," he promised. She held out the pen, and he gripped it. Seconds later his feet landed on the ground of a small village. She hooked her arm onto his and started pulling him past the quaint shops with flashing signs and moving pictures advertising their wares. As much as he wanted to slow her down, to make her wait while he looked around, he only chanced peripheral glances as she sped them through the town towards something that looked like a large compound.

The Adirondack School of Magic was a series of large stone buildings, never more than three stories tall, grouped tightly around each other at the base of a mountain. The Quidditch pitch was surrounded by trees, the hoops rising just over the top, the stands built into the side of the mountain. Standing at the gate they could see most of the grounds. To one side was a stable with several paddocks containing different magical creatures. On the other side of the grounds were several long greenhouses. In the middle were the buildings, walkways covered by canopies spanning between them, a central courtyard with a large fountain in the middle. Students milled around, some hurrying from building to building, others sitting around bent over books or talking in small groups.

"In Europe we have the benefit of large castles and old buildings to build our schools in. They didn't have that in America, so American schools tend to have groups of buildings, each dedicated to one art of magic, and other buildings housing their dormitories. I brought us inside the protections of the town and the school, if I had taken us outside the protections there was a good chance you wouldn't want to come in. There's ways to keep Muggles out of wizarding areas, to keep the secret," Hermione told him as he watched a couple students tossing a ball to each other on the Quidditch pitch.

"Good morning," a middle aged witch approached them as they came across the first buildings. "Can I help you?"

"Hopefully. My name is..."

"Hermione Granger, of course," the witch beamed. "You're on the curriculum of my History of Modern Magic class."

"Oh, well, thank you," she said quickly to get back to business. "This is Spencer Reid. We are here on a case, and we were wondering if we could speak to the Headmistress."

"Of course," the witch nodded. "She should still be at breakfast. If not I'll take you to her office."

They walked into a low building near the center of the group. It was set up much like the Great Hall at Hogwarts, though without the enchanted ceiling. Five house tables were stretched across the room, and at either end sat staff tables. The Headmistress was sitting in an intricately designed chair at one of the staff tables.

"Headmistress?" the Professor called as they approached the table. "You have a couple visitors here to see you."

"Thank you, Professor Grant," the Headmistress smiled. "Ms. Granger, what a pleasure it is to be able to meet you, and it's an honor to have you at our school. I'm Headmistress Patricia Keller."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, as well," she said, shaking the Headmistress' hand. "This is Spencer Reid, and we'd like to talk to you a case we're working on. Is there a place we could speak in private?"

"Of course. Right this way," she said, standing and leading them into the building next to the dining hall. She used a password to walk through a solid wall into her office. She directed them to sit at two chairs facing a large mahogany desk, and she took her seat on the other side.

"What can I help you with today?" the Headmistress asked.

"We're here because we're investigating the murders in Chicago," Hermione explained.

"I've heard about those. Do they have a connection with this school?"

"Unfortunately, we believe they do," she muttered with a somber nod.

"While looking over the crime scenes we discovered a small crest at each one," Spencer explained, handing over a picture.

"This is the Denian house crest," the Headmistress gasped.

"We found them near the head of each of the victims. We believe that the unsub has some kind of ties to the house."

"If they're from our school and killing Muggles, I can honestly say I'm not surprised as to the house," she sighed. "Denian house is much like Slytherin. Favored by Pureblood families for generations. Some were known to be on You-Know-Who's side. It's not as bad as it was when I was a student here forty years ago, the younger ones have been more open to Muggles and Muggle-borns, but there's always going to be those older families that have the bias."

"Any families that stand out in particular?" Hermione asked.

"There's a number of them, but I wouldn't be able to pick one over the others. The McDillons, the Giacones, the Enfluants, I couldn't say I have a bias as to who might produce a member who would do something like this."

"Is there any way we could get a list of the families?"

"Normally I'd say that I need approval from the Ministry, but whoever that is in Chicago needs to be stopped, and I'm going to assume the Ministry would give you whatever you need. Those poor Muggle families," she said, getting up and going to a drawer. A quill and parchment followed her, scribbling down names as she said them aloud. In the end they had a list of about forty names of known anti-Muggle families that had come from the house. She had debated on a few names, but had put them down just to be safe. Hermione and Spencer thanked her and left quickly. Their next stop was at the American Ministry of Magic, where they copied the list and gave it to the Department of Registry, which said they would look up the addresses of everyone in each of those families, not just the primary members, and send Hermione the information at her hotel in a couple hours.

Hermione took Spencer back to his hotel room first, so he could get out of the robes.

"Did I do okay?" he asked as he fumbled with the fastenings.

"I would have thought you had been doing it for years," Hermione smiled.

"This outfit is kind of warm for September," he said, pulling the robes over his head. Hermione couldn't help the thoughts that slipped through her mind at the sight of him taking the robe off, which caused his shirt to pull up and expose part of his stomach before his arms dropped and he held the robe out to her.

"Er, thanks," she said, managing to avoid the blush that threatened to creep up her cheeks. She took a hold of the robe, but didn't pull it away from him as she stared down at it. It wasn't until he dropped his hand that she moved again. She carefully folded the robe, and went into his bathroom to change again.

"Feel like getting lunch?" she asked after she had shrunk the duffel bag and stuck it in her purse.

"Sure," he nodded enthusiastically. "Where?"

"I don't know," she said, taking his hand and leading him out of the room.

"You don't have any idea where we're going to go?" he asked as they walked through the lobby.

"Not a clue. But we'll find a place. Left or right?"

"Er, right," he said, choosing the direction away from police headquarters. He was thrilled that she was still holding his hand, and didn't want to draw her attention to the fact for fear that she would drop it and go quiet for another day.

"I've found some of my favorite restaurants this way. I've also found a load of junk, but it's worth it. Pick a number one through fifteen."

"Twelve?"

"It's one twenty-seven, so whatever restaurant we come across first after one thirty-nine is where we'll eat," she explained, taking a random left turn.

"I hope you know the city well enough to get us back."

"The nice thing about being what I am. All I have to do is summon my driver, and he'll find me. Or, if we wind up close enough to the hotel, we can walk."

"You don't worry about where you might end up?"

"No," she shrugged. "As I said, I've found some terrible restaurants this way, but I've found some real gems. Left, right, or straight?"

He looked down at her, unsure of their little outing, but answered "straight".

At one thirty-nine they were standing outside a bar and grill with a biker theme. He was even more unsure of the plan, but she pulled him inside and sat them at a table. They each ordered burgers and fries from a friendly waiter with dreadlocks and tattoos covering most of his exposed skin.

"This place is interesting," he commented, looking around.

"Not the type of place you'd go to normally, is it?" she asked, leaning across the table towards him.

"Certainly not," he said with a nod towards a rusting motorcycle sitting out the window.

"Because you have a routine, don't you? I'm not saying that it's a bad thing, but you like having some structure to your day. Nothing that can't be changed by your trips to the field, but I'm assuming you get up at the same time every day, even on your days off. You have a morning routine, get up, shower, grab something easy for breakfast, have at least one cup of coffee, probably two, then drive to work. After work you either get takeout or delivery, occasionally you cook yourself something simple, eat, and then read or watch television to wind down, but you have one or two favorite shows and don't really watch much of anything else. You turn in at pretty much the same time every night. Once, maybe twice a week your work friends ask you to go hang out with them, and you do it, but spending time alone doesn't bother you. It's somewhat calming to spend time alone, because you like to take the time to sort out the chaos of the day in your head."

"Profiling the profiler. You got it pretty close, but I don't drive, I take the subway. And I write a letter to my mother every day, letting her know how my day went, what I did, and about my cases."

"That's nice that you have that kind of communication with your mother."

"Yeah," he muttered as their food came, hoping she didn't realize the true meaning behind his daily correspondence. "Can I take my shot with you?"

"I'd like to hear it," she said before taking a bite of her burger.

"You are the reluctant celebrity. You feel that you did what any decent person who was in the situation would have done, and that you don't need any kind of adoration for it. So you probably live modestly, with books as your only indulgence. You said you have a two-bedroom flat, and that one is your library. The other one probably has a large bed and a dresser, but you're not fussy with your furniture. Your closet and drawers are probably neat, you like to keep your place immaculate. You work with chaos, so you keep your personal space neat and organized to have some control over it. You're eager to prove that you're more than this 'Golden Trio', and have been working to make a name for yourself, which is why you're so successful at such a young age. You don't feel the need to settle down, you think that when the time is right you'll just know it. You want whoever you settle down with to be understanding about the fact that you're going to be gone a lot, and that sometimes your work takes precedence. You're hesitant to start a family, because you know there will difficult choices you'll have to make after you have children. You work on the front lines, which occasionally put you in the line of fire, and you won't want to have to worry about leaving your children without a mother. You have a morning routine, which always feels a little rushed, but you have enough friends and work colleagues that you spend four or more days with them after work per week."

"You're close, too. But a little off about me being afraid to leave my child without a mother. I have enough of a support system that I feel like my child would be taken care of. I'm afraid that I might wind up like my friend, Neville's, parents. That I would be alive, but unable to understand who my child is. Having them grow up knowing I'm alive but unable to take care of them," she said softly. "I already have problems because of what happened to me. I put myself in a position to wind up getting the same treatment more often than I probably should. It only takes being captured for an hour or two."

"Have you ever considered quitting when you have children?"

"Not quitting, but slowing down maybe. I'm gone forty five or so weeks a year. That's a long time to be without your mother. If I could get it down to half that, do more work out of the office, or get a set schedule in the field, that's when I'll start thinking about children. But right now I'm still getting experience, and doing my best to do as much hands-on work as possible."

They ate in silence for a while before she asked, "Have you ever been in love, Spencer?"

"No," he replied. "I graduated high school before most people start. I went to college early, so when I was going through puberty I was around women who were too old for me. I just haven't had much luck since then."

"How much do you think one lover should sacrifice for another?"

"I don't think that they should give up a job they love doing, if that's what you're asking about."

"Hmmm..." she muttered, picking through the remnants of her burger.

"Sometimes you can love the wrong person for all the right reasons, or the right person for all the wrong reasons. You just have to decide what you're willing to compromise."

"Do you think I'm selfish for not compromising on a job?"

"I think that it would be unrealistic to ask you to go from working as hard as you do to housewife and mother."

She looked thoughtfully out the window for a few seconds before she said, "I think our strange little trip paid off this time. This was a good burger."

"It was. And I wouldn't have ever considered this place if it wasn't for your weird lunchtime routines."

"Routines can be nice. Spontaneity can be nice, too," she said, motioning for the check. She paid and they went outside, where she looked around.

"We're about ten blocks away from my hotel. Feel up for a walk?"

"Is this that spontaneity thing you're talking about?"

"No, this is getting a little exercise. I'd say fresh air, but this is a big city, and I doubt there's much fresh air with all these buses around," she said, starting towards her hotel. She had gotten about ten steps before she turned and looked back at him. "Coming?" she asked, holding out her hand.

It was an invitation he couldn't refuse. He took her hand, and they walked through the city, past busy streets and bustling shops until they got closer to the hotel, and slowly the number of people walking around dwindled until they were the only two, and they were able to enter the apartment building without being noticed.

"You have a parcel, Ms. Granger," the clerk said, holding out a large envelope.

"Our addresses," she said as she folded the parcel under her arm. They got into the lift and traveled up to her room, where she tore into the letter like a child with a Christmas present. She handed Spencer half the stack as she sat down to start looking over the addresses, looking for anything in or near Chicago.

They stayed bent over the coffee table, side by side, knees touching for the better part of an hour, with little luck. He was checking anything that might be close enough to Chicago that it wouldn't be to much trouble for someone to magically transport there to work for the day, but it was difficult, because with magical transport that was a pretty wide radius.

"Could someone use a Portkey like you do to get in and out of the city without detection?" he asked.

"Portkeys are monitored by the Ministry," she muttered as she flipped another page. "They've been closely monitored, and Portkey users have been forced to go through the same check stations as Apparation users."

He stood up to stretch his back, which was feeling very stiff. "Do you think we could get the records to cross..." he trailed off as he noticed something on the board. Bending over quickly he shuffled through his papers until he found the one he wanted, then hurried over to the board. He grabbed a marker and drew two think lines dividing the list of bar names into three. He studied the middle section, checked the paper, then turned back to the couch.

"Hermione?" he said, barely more than a whisper. "I think I've found something."

"What?"

"These letters," he said, motioning to the board. "They spell a name on my list."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I was about to go to bed when I realized it had been three days. Can't get off my schedule now, can I? Good thing this story is done, waiting for posting.**

**Thanks again to Maria Binger, who has beta'ed this story for me, and put up with my wacko questions at all hours.**

**Enjoy, and please review**

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"Enfluant," Spencer said, emphatically pointing to the piece of paper he was holding. "That's one of the names on my list. And here it is, in the first letters from the bars names. Hermione, I don't think this is coincidence."

She grabbed the marker from him and started scribbling the first letters of the bar names from above his first line. "Vespasian," she muttered. "I know that's someones name."

"Vespasian was a Roman emperor," he said.

"Is there a Vespasian on your list?"

He double checked. "There's a V, but it says their address is unknown."

"That's strange," she said, brow furrowed.

"What's strange?"

"Usually the only way that a witch or wizard goes under the radar like that is that they are a Squib. They don't use magic. Perhaps Vespasian is a dirty little family secret," she mused, looking deep in thought.

"Squib's don't use magic?" he asked.

"Squib's can't use magic. They're the opposite of Muggle-borns, they're non-magic persons born into all-magic families. It's considered quite the scandal among some pure-blood families, and Squibs are often covered up. They're sent far away to private Muggle schools, and as soon as they can be kicked out, they're cut off and kicked out."

"That's horrible."

"That's life in some pure-blood families. If you're not an honor to the family, you're not part of the family. That doesn't go for all pure-blood families, mind you. Had one of the Weasleys been born a Squib I doubt Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would put them out, and Neville's family didn't consider putting him out when they thought he might be a Squib, but had Draco Malfoy been born without magic..." she shuddered. For some reason Lucius Malfoy seemed like the type of man who would rather have a dead son than a Squib son. Draco had a job at the Ministry as a researcher for the Department of Law Enforcement, so she saw him quite often around the office. While not friendly, they could hold a civil chat without exchanging insults or leaving with a desire to cause the other physical harm. Draco really seemed to be trying to prove he had changed his ways, whereas Lucius did just enough to keep him rich and with as short a sentence in Azkaban as possible.

"Do you think that he has something to do with this?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "What are the other letters?"

"They spell out Meghan Len. I have a feeling that last name is unfinished."

"Let me make a call," she muttered, rushing to the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, threw it in, called for Headmistress Keller's office, and stuck her head in.

"Ms. Granger!" the Headmistress called in surprise. "Is it good news?"

"There may have been a break in the case. Could you tell me, did you ever have a student who attended name Vespasian Enfluant?"

"Yes, I remember him. He was a quiet boy, which surprised me because his family was quite the boisterous group. Very Alpha, the whole lot of them, for centuries up until Vespasian."

"So, he wasn't a Squib?" she asked in surprise.

"Oh, no, quite the opposite. He was skilled, and picked up on magic very quickly."

"Was he in Denian house?"

"Yes, he was, but I got the distinct impression that he didn't like it there, that he was only doing it because it was expected from his family. Most of his friends were from other houses. He was a skilled Quidditch player, but he didn't want to play with the house team. He preferred playing with his friends."

"Where is his family?"

"His father and mother, Tomas and Isabelle, are living in Vermont. There's a town up there, which has been affectionately named 'Tatum Putus'."

"'Only Pure'."

"Exactly. It's an area where the most affluent pure-blood families of the area live."

"Do you know what happened to him after school?" she asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately I do not. He was a bright boy, and I thought that he would make a name for himself in the Ministry one day, but as far as I know he doesn't even live in the area anymore."

"We have another name, but it may only be partial. Meghan Len?"

"Meghan Lentz," she said with a smile. "A Muggle born in the same year as Vespasian. She started school the same year you helped bring You-Know-Who down. She was determined to do the same as you did, prove that Muggle-borns are just as good as Pure-bloods. She struggled a little bit, but for the most part she was a good student and got decent marks."

"Were she and Vespasian friends?"

"They started seeing each other the last couple months before graduation. Before that he had been seeing a girl from Denian, Ilse Atlantes. They were not a good match, but his family and her family had been hoping for a wedding between their two families for a long time, and they pushed Vespasian and Ilse together, and he went along with it to please his family for about two years. There were whispers of an arranged marriage, but they're illegal, and if there was some kind of arrangement it was well hidden."

"Do you know what happened to Meghan?"

"She seems to have disappeared as well. I haven't heard about her, either."

"Thank you very much. I'll let you know how things work out."

"Please do."

Hermione pulled herself out of the fireplace, and brushed herself off as she ran up to Spencer.

"She doesn't know where Vespasian is, but he wasn't a squib. He was a black sheep of his family, and the last the Headmistress knew he was in a relationship with Meghan Lentz."

"So, if whoever is going after them, they've got two more letters before they finish her name- T and Z."

"I think it might be his family," she said, looking at the list. "He turned his back on them to see a Muggle-born girl, Meghan. They may be trying to send him a message."

"If they are sending him a message, he has until they're done with the next two victims to get it, because they'll be coming after him after that."

"That doesn't give us a whole lot of time. They're averaging one a night now."

"Have we considered that Vespasian doesn't have views that differ too much from his family's?"

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps this is a love note. This Meghan girl might be proving her superiority over Muggles by killing them for him."

"Either way, we need to find Vespasian and Meghan."

"Agreed. How do you think we should do that?"

"We're going to have to approach the Enfluant family. And I'm not going to just go with you and I. I've got two pure-blooded Aurors on my team, I want to fetch them to come with us."

"Speaking of teams, Rossi confronted me this morning. He said he's going to put out a warrant for you in the morning if you don't come and share your evidence with the team by then."

"I knew your disappearances wouldn't go completely unnoticed," she muttered. "And I guess it's perhaps time to let your team in on things. I'll take you back to Police Headquarters, then I'll go brief my Aurors and get them set on what I want them to do while I'm gone, and after I come back we can present the case to your team together before leaving. That way they can go out and case some bars if we're not back in time tonight."

"That sounds like a good plan," he nodded. They quickly gathered their things. It was four-thirty in the afternoon when she dropped him outside the police station, she told him to meet her back outside at five-thirty. Nervously he made his way inside to his team's work room.

"Spencer?" Hotch said as he entered. Hotchner and Rossi were the only ones in the room. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, but I have to admit something to you," he said, looking grim.

"What is it?"

"First, call everyone else back. We're going to have a meeting at five-thirty with some very important people."

Hotch agreed, and made a few phone calls. When he was done Spencer shut the door and sat at the table. "Rossi already knows this, but the girl I met when I was out to dinner the other night isn't a business woman. She is an independent profiler, like I told David, but not in the capacity you might think."

"What capacity is it? Is she some kind of psychic?" Rossi asked, sounding skeptical.

"You won't believe this, but she's a witch. The person doing all these killings is a witch or wizard. That's why we can't figure out how they died. They were hit with a spell that killed them instantly without any outside evidence."

Both Hotchner and Rossi were looking at him like he finally cracked, or perhaps he was finally showing signs that his mother's disease had, in fact, been passed down to him.

"Reid, maybe you need a break," Hotchner said slowly.

"It's true!" Spencer shouted, banging his file of evidence on the table. "You know that we went through every damn inch of those crime scenes three times over. I went with Hermione, and she discovered this," he said, pulling the photos of the crest out of the file.

"These pictures are moving!" Rossi yelped in surprise as a hand with a ruler appeared in the photo he was holding, showing how big the crest was, then disappearing back out of the frame. The photo Hotchner was holding showed a blank headboard, then Hermione waving her wand at it, and the crest suddenly appearing.

"We visited several crime scenes, and the mark was at each one of them. Earlier today we tracked down the crest of a wizarding school in New York. I know this is a lot, and Hermione will explain it better when she gets here, but this is a better lead than we ever could have gotten on our own. We need to trust her."

Rossi and Hotchner exchanged glances. "This is completely unbelievable and completely inadmissible in court," Hotch muttered.

"If we catch them the wizards and witches are going to take care of the punishment. They can prove what happened, and they have their own prison they'll take the unsub to," he finished with a shudder.

"What's wrong?"

"She told me about the prison. Hell on Earth is an accurate description."

The door suddenly swung open. JJ came in, followed by Emily and Derek.

"I'm glad to see you're still with us," Emily said, squeezing Spencer's shoulder.

"That was a whole lot of nothing," Derek grumbled, throwing his keys on the table. "We're still spinning tires. The tread is almost gone, man."

"Spencer has a major break," Hotch announced.

"Really? Let's hear it, Reid."

"I'm meeting her in five minutes," Spencer muttered. "I have to go wait for her outside."

The group exchanged glances, but Spencer got up and left. When he got out the door he saw Hermione standing to one side of the doors, flanked by two large and menacing looking men and one woman.

"Spencer, this is Evander, Marius, and Alyssia. Evander and Marius are going to go with us tonight, Alyssia's my second-in-command and will lead my team in our stakeouts tonight," Hermione wasted no time making introductions. "I've already briefed my team, so they're ready to go, and they're bringing in more Aurors from nearby Ministries. Still, have you seen how many bars there are that start with 'T' in the hunting area the unsub has? We're not going to have enough."

"They're waiting for us inside," he muttered, and he grabbed her hand without thinking, feeling the calm being close to her brought. She didn't pull away as they walked through Police Headquarters to the workroom. As they entered he noticed her lips moving.

"Praying?" he muttered.

"Silencing charm," she replied.

They entered the room, and the team, who had been giving quick reports. They fell silent as Spencer and Hermione entered the room followed by the Aurors, who shut the door behind them.

"Reid, I'm happy that you've got yourself a girlfriend, but is it worth the big production?" Derek asked.

"That's not it," Spencer said.

"May we shut the blinds?" Hermione asked, and Emily, who was closest to the windows, complied. "I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Hermione Granger, and I am the Head Auror in charge of this investigation."

"Auror?" JJ asked, looking around, trying to see if she was the only one confused.

"Magical Law Enforcement," she explained.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Derek chuckled. "Magic?"

Hermione answered by pulling her wand and waving it at Spencer's file of evidence, and pictures and bits of paper flew out of the folder and arranged themselves on the blank board. In unison the BAU team, except for Spencer, sank onto the chairs nearest to them. For an hour Hermione and Spencer carefully explained how they met, and the work they had done together. They explained about the crest, and what they thought it meant. They told the team that they were going out that night to confront Vespasian's family and try to find their possible unsub. They had to explain everything two or three times, as it seemed like the shock of finding out that wizards and witches existed was too much for the team, and they were moving in and out of paying attention.

"What do you need from us?" Hotch asked when they were finished.

"I know you are all very skilled, but you have no chance of taking down this unsub by yourself," Hermione replied. "But that doesn't mean you can't help us out. We're going to have to spread ourselves very thin, there are a lot of bars out there that start with the letter 'T'."

"We should focus on the bars where the name starts with 'T' and not 'The'. If they are so obsessed with purity something small like that would bug them," Spencer threw in. "Using 'The' as a 'T' is not the purest form, and I'd be willing to bet that the unsub has a small obsession with purity of everything, since they seem to be so obsessed about blood purity. What you're going to be looking for is someone, and we have a feeling that it's a woman based on their preference for picking up men, who shows up at the bar without any form of transportation. Whoever it is will be alone, and they'll be scouting the bar, looking for a man as their next victim. Keep an eye on single men, or small groups of only men. When you go out make sure you're in a group of mixed men and women, those aren't targeted. Go to the bathroom in pairs and if you see someone suspect do not engage them."

"Pay attention to if they leave with someone acting suspicious," Hermione continued. "Such as following them without physical contact, a glassy or distant look in their eyes, or too much physical contact on his part. Whoever is leading these men is probably putting them under a spell or using a potion to make them come against their better judgment or without any fight."

"Do we have any idea what we're looking for when it comes to the unsub?" JJ asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It might not be what they actually look like. Wizards and witches have many ways of changing their appearance using spells and potions. Evander here doesn't even need that," she said, nodding towards the Auror behind her, who illustrated her point by shifting his appearance to look like Hermione's double, then shifting back.

"Hermione and I differ on this," Spencer announced. "Hermione thinks that the unsub will change their appearance at each crime scene to avoid detection. I feel that the unsubis confident enough in their abilities to outwit the 'stupid Mugles' in the bar that they don't need to change. There are families out there that treat killing Muggles as almost a sport, and not a very challenging one at that, and based on that I doubt they'd bother with a disguise."

"We had an epidemic of it over in the UK ten years ago, if you remember the headlines," Hermione threw in. "Luckily we're pretty sure that this is one person, two at most and not the start of an army, but if they keep going they'll gain their supporters and we could have open season on Muggles before long. We need to get this stopped now. Alyssia here will assign you to an Auror, and you are to stay by their side all night while we search for this unsub. If they see something they've been given the order to engage as soon as the there is minimal risk to Muggles."

"Minimal risk?" Hotch asked.

"Unfortunately the American Minister of Magic feels that if there is a casualty or two that it's for the greater good," she muttered. Spencer looked down at her in surprise. "I just got the news," she explained. "He'd rather do Obliviations and cover up a few Muggle dead and get this person caught than wait until we can get them in a private place. If the unsub fights, this could mean a couple Muggles dead, if we're lucky. Harry and some more Aurors from the UK are volunteering their time, and they're on their way, and they're bringing a couple Dementors, creatures that feed on hope and happiness, and leave everyone around them in despair. Whoever this is, they're in for a very public Kiss. Things haven't been like this since Voldemort. This is the type of thing that's typically only allowed during times of war. Things are going to get really bad in this city if we don't catch this unsub in the next couple days."

"Which means we really need to get this figured out yesterday, right?" Derek said.

"Yes, so we're going to get going. Listen to Alyssia, and follow what she tells you," Spencer said. "We'll meet again tomorrow to discuss what we find out tonight."

"Be safe," Hermione said with a nod. "Take care of them," she muttered to Alyssia.

"I will," Alyssia nodded.

"One more thing," Hermione said, and before anyone could react all four Aurors waved their wands, Hermione twice. Every member of the BAU team except Spencer clutched their throats as their tongues folded back on themselves suddenly, but a second later they were all breathing normally, but looking terrified.

"Sorry to spring it on you," Hermione apologized. "Tongue-tying curse. If you try to talk about Magic to anyone else besides the Aurors you'll find yourself unable to. It's just a precaution to save my arse," she explained before she tugged Spencer from the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but it's necessary and it has a good stopping point. **

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The residents of Tatum Putus had made sure that they would protect themselves against surprise raids by the Ministry and that they would keep out Muggle-born riff-raff in general by erecting strong anti-Muggle protections, and limiting Apparitions in only so that only Purebloods could come directly in. Everyone else had to Apparate to the roadside a quarter mile away and trek through a poorly marked path the woods to come to the overgrown stone path that linked all the houses to each other. Hermione had dressed Spencer up again, and he was half-jogging to keep up with the Aurors' anxious pace. They passed some of the largest, darkest houses he had ever seen set on, each one set on rich, deep green lawns that were expertly manicured and designed to display the wealth of those who resided there. The group passed four houses before Hermione stopped outside a large, wrought-iron gate with a crest displaying a Hippogriff and a large letter 'E' designed from wands.

"Enfluant family crest," she said a split second before a loud crack sounded, and a House-Elf appeared on the other side of the gate.

"Bobsy's been sent to sees what the strange witch and wizards are wanting," the Elf said, bowing low.

"Tell your Masters we are from the Ministry of Magic, and need to speak to them right away. If they do not allow us on the property, we'll force our way on, and make some arrests for our trouble," Hermione replied sharply. The Elf disappeared, and moments later the gates slid open. They hurried across the lawn and up the stairs to the front door, where they were greeted by a snobbish-looking middle age witch wearing expensive robes and trying to look accommodating.

"We always welcome the Ministry into our home, there is no need for hostilities here," the witch said. "I am Isabelle Enfluant. Tomas will be down shortly. He will be so pleased to see you here, Ms. Granger."

"I hope so," Hermione replied, though she sounded like she doubted it.

"Come in, come in, please sit. Bobsy, tea, if you would." She led the way towards a large sitting room decked out in blue and silver. Above the mantle was a large painting of the family, the beautiful witch mother, a handsome wizard that looked to be about twenty years her senior standing behind her, four witches ranging in age from mid-teens to mid-twenties who resembled their mother more than their father gathered around them. No sign of another wizard. Hermione looked over at Spencer, who had noticed the absence in the painting as well. Bobsy returned with tea, which Hermione politely took and, with a nod of her head, non-verbally instructed Spencer to take as well. The other two Aurors stood behind the couch, refusing tea and doing their job of looking as though the group meant business.

"This is a beautiful home you have here," Hermione said in as friendly a tone as she could muster.

"Thank you," Isabelle smiled. "That means a lot coming from you, Ms Granger."

"Sure it does," Spencer muttered under his breath.

"I heard we have visitors!" his booming voice preceded Tomas' entrance into the room. He paused when he got a look at Hermione. "Not just visitors, but a celebrity as well. How delightful. May I introduce my two eldest daughters, Marlisa and Antonia? My younger daughters are at school." He sat next to his wife, and, as if it were a choreographed dance the two daughters moved in unison to stand behind their parents.

"And your son?" Hermione asked.

"Do you see this vase, Ms. Granger?" Tomas ignored her question, motioning to an intricately painted vase nestled between a silver mask and a scorched wood box on the mantle. The paintings depicted a group of wizards taking down a group of Muggles armed with pitchforks and torches. "It's been in our family since the eighteenth century, and depicts our ancestors fighting to protect our magical community from the Muggle invaders who wished to destroy it and all the residents."

Spencer opened his mouth to ask if the Muggles had any chance, but Hermione placed a hand on his knee and discretely shook her head once.

"We take pride in our family's heritage, Ms. Granger. Marlisa graduated in the top ten of her class. She's now working with Masters Borgin and Burke to open up a branch of their shop in our nearby Muggle community. She has a mind for business, if not a bit of a procrastinator," he smiled, and the standing behind him winced at his words.

"Antonia was number two in her class," he continued. "I have appointed her head of my business affairs, making sure that my contributions are dispersed as I have directed, and keeping an eye on the businesses that use those contributions to make sure they were not mishandled. She also helps run the Quidditch team I co-own, and lobbies legislation for me at the Ministry of Magic. She is such a source of pride to us.

"Our younger daughters are stars at the school. One has just received seven OWLs, and is studying to go into politics when she is out. The other has already received praise and admiration from her teachers on several occasions. Our daughters have done well to promote our name and the prestige we have come to expect with that."

"Seven OWLs is quite impressive," Hermione smiled, but her voice sounded strained.

"I heard you got an impressive amount yourself."

"Eleven."

"That's something for our youngest to strive for, then."

"Tell her good luck. But you still are avoiding my questions. Where is Vespasian?"

The eldest girl looked pained for a second, and turned away, causing Spencer to raise an eyebrow and watch her carefully.

"Let me make it very clear, Ms. Granger," Tomas said, accommodating smile fading from his face. "I have told you about my family, _all_ the members of my family. There is no Vespasian here, nor will there ever be again. That is a dark chapter we have cut out of our lives, and we will make sure his type never darkens our doorstep again. He is not welcome as is your kind, Ms. Granger. Nor the Muggle sitting next to you."

Spencer and Hermione stood at the same time, and Hermione moved herself protectively in front of Spencer. "Your tone is out of line," Hermione cautioned.

"Your heritage is well known," Tomas stood with a snarl. "Do you think that we cannot smell the Muggle stink coming off that man? You may dress up your little doll in robes and give him a wand he cannot use, but we know Muggle scum when we see it. And we want both of you out of our house post haste."

He and Hermione were now standing within two feet of each other, each intent on staring each other down. Spencer grabbed Hermione's wand arm, trying to tug her away from Tomas. "I'll do you a kindness you do not deserve," Hermione said dangerously. "Until our situation is resolved you and your family will be under close watch by the Ministry. I would be very careful with your words and movements for a while."

"You do not have the power to do that," Tomas hissed.

"Watch me," Hermione smirked. She turned and walked out the front door, and waited until they were halfway across the lawn before speaking. "That mask was a Death Eater mask, which is a Class-A non-tradable object. Either Mr. Enfluant was a Death Eater, or he bought that mask illegally. Either way, he can expect a raid in the next couple days."

Spencer looked nervous. "A little vindictive, are we?"

"I'm just following the law," she replied innocently as they walked through the gate and started back down the lane.

"Ms. Granger?" a voice called as they passed a small grove of trees.

They stopped and turned, seeing Marlisa walking nervously towards them, playing with a folded piece of paper in her hands.

"I'm sorry," Marlisa muttered. "My father is always like that."

"An overbearing prat. I know the type," Hermione nodded. "If you have any care for your mental well-being you should get out of that house."

"I know," she said, squeezing the paper tightly. "The deal with Borgin and Burke fell through a couple months ago. I've been working at a bookshop ever since, trying to save up money to get out on my own. Vespasian left without any money, and he's been struggling financially ever since."

"You've got contact with Vespasian?" Spencer asked in surprise.

"Yes," she nodded. "I haven't told my parents, they'd kick me out, but he and his girlfriend..."

"Is that Meghan Lentz?"

"Yes. They bolted as soon as they graduated. They've been hiding out, living as Muggles ever since. He couldn't bring himself to go through with his arranged marriage."

"So there was one," Hermione muttered.

"Yes. And I've got one as well, when I hit twenty-seven. They wanted me to wait a few years so it doesn't look arranged. I'm trying to leave before then."

"About Vespasian," Spencer cut in.

"Spencer," Hermione hissed in warning, not wanting to call him outright on his insensitivity. "If you go to the Ministry in the UK and ask for Draco Malfoy I'll send word for him to look up ways to get you out of there. He's a pureblood, he'll understand your ties to your family," she said gently.

"Thank you," Marlisa nodded. "I wanted you to have this," she said, handing her the piece of paper. "It's where you'll be able to find Vespasian and Meghan."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled.

"I need to go before they notice I'm gone."

"I'll make sure Draco gets the message," Hermione nodded. Marlisa disappeared with a pop. "She was going to give us the paper no matter what," she said to Spencer. "She just needed reassurances that there's people out there who will get the message. And she'll think that a Pureblood will understand her better than a Muggle-born, since those are two different worlds. Her father obviously has strong ties to the American Ministry, so I need to make sure she doesn't seek help with them, or it'll get back to him. She's scared for herself and her brother and reaching out, and I offered the best helping hand I could for the moment."

Spencer bit his lip. Empathy had never been his strong suit, and he wasn't the best one to ask about the difficulties living as a Pureblood witch. "Where's the address?"

Hermione opened the paper, and her jaw fell open. "They live in Chicago," she said, holding out the paper to him.

"That explains why the killings are happening there. It's easiest to get a message when it's placed on your front step."

"You two," Hermione pointed to the other two Aurors. "I want you to go over the Apparation and Portkey records. I want to see if anyone who has a name close to Enfluant has been coming and going from the area. And I want it within three hours."

"Yes, ma'am," the Aurors said in unison before Apparating away.

Hermione and Spencer traveled back to Chicago branch of the Ministry. It was late, and there was no one there. Hermione sent a quick message to Draco, as she had promised, and filled out a form ordering a raid on Enfluant Manor. Spencer changed back into his street clothes, and they climbed into her car to drive him back to the hotel.

"What are you thinking about the new information?" he asked.

"I'm thinking that we can pretty much cross them off the list of suspects. If they're living as Muggles they've made a major change, and they wouldn't risk exposing themselves by killing a bunch of Muggles in their own neighborhood."

"So, who would benefit from sending them a message?"

"His family, obviously. We can cut out her family, since they're Muggles," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"What about the family they had an arranged marriage with? They're probably pretty upset that he would rather run away with the bottom rung of your society than their daughter," he offered.

"That just opens up a whole new can of worms now, doesn't it?"

"It does make things more complicated."

"Okay, now the million Galleon question is who do we go interview first?"

"I think it would be best to talk to Vespasian and Meghan first. They're the center of all this, perhaps they can give us insight into this other family."

"Do you think we should go visit them tonight, or do you think we need to wait until tomorrow?" she asked.

"It's late," he muttered. "Perhaps first thing in the morning?"

"Okay," she nodded as they pulled up to his hotel. He climbed out, and she exited after him. "You want me to pick you up at seven-thirty?"

"You do like bright and early, don't you?"

"I'll bring coffee," she smiled. They stood, close to each other, neither one sure of how to bid the other goodnight. She studied his face, eyes running slowly over each feature. He was aware that she was moving closer to him, eyes never leaving his face, but suddenly becoming focused on his lips. She took a small step forward so her body was lightly pressing against his. He started to lean down towards her, but at the last second wrapped his arms around her in a hug rather than press his lips to hers. They held each other for a couple seconds before she pulled away.

"I'll see you in the morning," she muttered with a confused smile, then she started to walk quickly across the lobby. He watched her go, then went up to his room and changed into his pajamas. He was sitting in the chair with a book when there was a sharp knock on the door. He went to his peephole, and to his shock he saw Hermione standing in the hall, looking agitated.

"What's going...?" he started as he opened the door.

"Get dressed. They found another body. We can't wait until morning," she said quickly.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I almost forgot it was three days since my last update. And we're about to get to the good bit. Which, may I warn, contains a bit of a lemon. Not this chapter, next one. Three more days until you get that, so it's something to look forward to.**

**Thanks again for the reviews and support. Enjoy!**

* * *

Hermione let Spencer take the lead when they came to Vespasian and Meghan's apartment building. She hung back, fearing they might run if they saw her. The apartment building was old, but well-kept, and the apartments looked small but friendly. Spencer walked up to the last apartment in a well-lit hallway and knocked while Hermione pressed herself against the wall.

"Vespasian?" he called when there was no quick answer. "Meghan? FBI."

There was the sound of the lock being undone, but not the chain. The door opened slightly, and a strong-faced boy who looked like a younger version of Tomas peeked out.

"Who the hell are you?" the man said.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI..."

"Who are you really?" he snapped.

"I really am..."

"He's really FBI," Hermione announced, coming into view. "He's working with me."

Vespasian studied both of them before undoing the chain and standing back for them to come into the apartment. He quickly closed the door after them, and locked the three locks on the door.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other room. A petite, pretty brunette girl dressed in a silk nightgown came into the room. She took one look at Hermione, gasped, and covered her mouth with her hands.

"You must have done some digging to find us. We haven't been Vespasian and Meghan for a couple years now," Vespasian muttered, ushering them into the kitchen and motioning for them to sit at the small, four-person table.

"I guess not enough digging, or we would have heard you were living under different names," Hermione muttered.

"It did kind of give you away," he replied. "Coffee?"

"I know Spencer wants some," Hermione said, squeezing his knee under the table and causing him to straighten up.

"I'll make it," Meghan said, moving to the cabinet to pull down a can of coffee and a filter for the machine.

"What are you here about?" Vespasian asked after Meghan had handed out cups of coffee in mismatched mugs.

"The recent killings," Hermione said grimly. "We have reason to believe that someone is targeting you, and that they know you are here."

Vespasian and Meghan looked at her in shock. "What would make you think that?" Meghan gasped.

Hermione explained about the names of the bars. "With the killing tonight at Teaser's Pub that means there's only one more letter before they finish spelling out your names. After that, we're afraid that your warning is over. Whoever is doing this might be coming after you."

"I knew it," Meghan said through clenched teeth. "I knew that bitch wasn't going to stop. I knew she'd find us no matter what we did to hide."

"What bitch?" Spencer asked.

"Ilse Atlantes."

"The girl you were supposed to marry?" he asked Vespasian.

"The same," Vespasian nodded. "I couldn't go through with it. I tried to do it to make my father happy, but she's crazy. Spouting stuff about blood purity to whoever would listen. Trying to start up a chapter of the Death Eaters here in America. She was thirteen when Voldemort fell, and she was trying her best to gain support to take up the lost cause here. Said it would be years before they could reorganize over in England, so we should start organizing now and start up our own 'Revolution against the Filth'. She absolutely idolized Bellatrix Lestrange..."

Hermione shuddered at the name, and Spencer grabbed her hand to get her mind away from Malfoy Manor before it triggered one of her fits of pain.

"When she was eleven and twelve she was talking about joining up with Voldemort when we were out of school. Saying that by then he should be more than ready to start branching across the ocean. She had dreams of world-wide Wizard supremacy, and told us about her hopes of Muggle enslavement."

"I've heard that story before," Hermione grumbled.

"She also thought Muggle-borns should be given the death penalty for stealing magic. She made a game out of giving them a hard time at school. But she was always careful not to do it in front of teachers, and only when they were alone. She terrorized them, and they were afraid to turn her in."

"How did she terrorize them?" Spencer asked.

"She threatened my family," Meghan said, hugging herself. "Said that they'd be easy to pick off. Especially my younger siblings. A quick killing curse and it would be all over. Told me if I knew what was best for me I'd drop out of school and go back to living like the Muggle scum I was. And, of course, your basic jinxes and hexes when I was trying to walk to class."

"Are all your family alive and well?" he asked suddenly.

"I talked to them yesterday. They're fine, still living in Pennsylvania."

"Is there somewhere they can go for a little while to hide?"

"They've been wanting to go see some family out in California for a while."

"You should probably get them to do that," Hermione nodded.

Meghan grabbed her phone and walked out of the room.

"Do you really think they'll go after her family?" Vespasian asked in a low voice.

"I think they'd go after her family over yours," Spencer nodded.

"And she's going to come after us?"

"You may want to join your wife's family," he nodded.

"I'll tell her that when she comes back," he grumbled, looking grim.

"Vespasian, do you honestly think that Ilse would kill Muggles to get back at you?" Hermione asked softly.

"She would kill Muggles for the hell of it. Of course she'd kill them to get back at me. If it's her, she's probably having the time of her life," he replied.

"Do you still have your wands?"

"Of course."

"It might be time to bring them back out."

"We disappeared once before. We'll do it again. At least until all this is sorted out. Maybe permanently, since we'll probably be fired for not showing up from our jobs. This isn't exactly something we can explain to our bosses."

"Once all this is over you may be able to re-enter wizarding society, if that interests you at all," she pointed out.

"It's something we've been discussing. Meghan is three months pregnant. There's a good chance that our child is going to have magic. We can't hide from the magical world forever," he mused.

"The nice thing about the magical community is that we're all over the world. If you want to be well away from your family and their bias, you can be," she said kindly.

"Is that why you came to America? To get away from everything that happened over in England?"

"Oh, no. I'm just here on this business," she said, looking taken aback.

"Sorry. I just thought you two were..." he looked down at their clasped hands, and they quickly pulled their hands back to themselves. "I thought it was kind of cool, the thought of Hermione Granger with a Muggle. There hasn't really been a high profile witch and Muggle relationship where the witch hasn't been a dragon-shit crazy killer who offed the Muggle."

"I don't think I'm dragon-shit crazy," Hermione chuckled.

"And I'm sure hoping she's not planning on off-ing the Muggle," Spencer added.

"Meghan always looked up to you," Vespasian continued, looking at Hermione as he would an old friend. "Said you were her inspiration to work through the crap Ilse gave her at school and graduate. But she said she wasn't as brave as you, and when she got the death threat right before we graduated she decided it was time to run for it. She asked if I'd go with her, and I said yes. Finding jobs in the Muggle sector was difficult, but we managed. This is our second apartment, in our first one we slept with our wands in our hands. It was awful, but all I want to do is make sure she's safe. And now I want our child to be born in a better environment, to have a better life than what I'm able to offer right now. That's why it might be time to move back into the magical community. After you catch Ilse, of course. I don't think my family would hurt me, except for Marlisa they seem content to pretend I don't exist, but Ilse scares me to death."

"We'll catch her," Hermione promised. "Do you happen to have a picture of her?"

"I've got an old album with her picture in it," he said, standing quickly. He stepped through a doorway, grabbed a photo album off the rickety-looking shelf just on the other side, and opened it. He flipped a couple pages and held it out to her. A menacing looking girl with sharp features and stick-straight dark brown hair was wrapped around a younger Vespasian. "That's the best I have," he said, sounding apologetic.

"It's much better than nothing," Hermione assured him.

"They're going to leave in the morning," Meghan said, entering the room.

"I'll get some Aurors out there for protection," Hermione offered.

"We're going to leave, too," Vespasian said, standing up.

"No," Meghan murmured. "I don't want to leave."

"We have to," he said, moving to hold her in his arms. "For your protection, for our protection," he murmured, placing his hand on her lower abdomen.

"This is our home. Where are we going to live when our child is born? I don't want to have it on the street."

"We'll settle back down when Ilse is caught."

"We're going to make sure that's soon," Hermione said, standing and pulling Spencer to his feet.

"Good luck," he nodded. "What's going to happen to her when you catch her?"

"If she's convicted, it'll be the Kiss," she muttered.

"Better than she deserves."

"Be safe, and take care of your precious little package," Hermione smiled before she and Spencer shook the couples' hands and left. As they were walking through the hall she made sure the coast was clear, then waved her wand, producing the silvery-white otter Patronus.

"Pioneer Woods, Tuma Lake, east side, thirty minutes," she told the Patronus. It nodded and sped off. She sent another message to Alyssia, and told her to look up any bar names that started with a 'Z' and bring the list to the meeting.

"Call your team," she said as they climbed into their car. "Tell them to meet us there now."

He called Hotch, who said he was fifteen minutes away, and who said he would make sure the rest of the team was there. He turned to tell Hermione the news, but saw she was wrapped up in her own thoughts, her eyes miles away.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Vespasian and Meghan's baby. How I would be terrified if it was me."

"It's a scary situation," he muttered.

"All this because he refused to go with his family's wishes and the social norm. Twenty-seven Muggles dead because he wouldn't marry someone he didn't love. Sometimes this world just baffles me," she muttered, her fingers flying to finger the necklace he had given her.

"You'll never be able to explain why some people act the way they do. You have to accept that there's going to be some bad apples out there, and it's our job to take them out of the general population and make the world safer for Vespasian and Meghan's baby."

"I guess you're right. Have you ever considered having children?"

"If the right person comes along I wouldn't say no."

"But you wouldn't be the one instigating the conversation?"

"I'm not sure if I'd be the best father figure for a child."

"No one is ever sure if they'll be a good parent."

"Trial and error sort of seems like a bad way to figure it out, don't you think? You can go to classes and read books, but you'll never really understand it until you have a child, and by then it seems a little late to figure out if you're going to be a good parent or not."

"It's not all trial and error if you have enough of a support system the help you along the way."

"That's nice if you have that support system," he whispered to himself.

They made it to the park, where Harry was waiting with a wide smile. She was comforted and empowered to see a good friend waiting for her. But standing next to him was someone totally unexpected- Ron.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," she muttered as she got out of the car.

"What?" Spencer asked. "You do this kind of thing all the time, don't you?"

"No, not that," she muttered. "Ron."

Spencer's head shot up, studying the long, lanky boy next to Harry. The two exchanged a glance before Spencer turned back to Hermione.

"I mean, I shouldn't be surprised. He's an Auror, too. I just thought..."

"You don't have to talk to him if you don't want," he offered, hoping she'd say no.

"No, I should at least say hullo."

He placed a hand on the small of her back as they walked across the grass towards her best friend and her former boyfriend.

"Harry," she greeted him first with a smile and a hug.

"Still 'professional'?" he whispered.

"Complicated," she replied.

"Good luck with him, then."

"Shh..." she hissed. She turned to Ron and, back a little straighter she muttered, "Hullo, Ronald."

"Hey, 'Mione," Ron replied softly, giving her a half smile.

"Congratulations on your engagement," she managed through clenched teeth.

"Thanks. Er, who's the bloke?"

"This is Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI. Spencer, this is Ronald Weasley."

"Nice to meet you," Spencer said, though it was clear that he thought it wasn't.

"Same," Ron replied.

"Spencer, your team is getting here," Hermione said, looking at a couple black SUVs that were entering the park and turning off their red and blue lights. "Why don't you go give them a quick debriefing of our interviews?"

"Oh, sure," he said. She gave his hand a quick squeeze before he walked off.

"Are you seeing him, 'Mione?" Ron demanded.

"I'm not making any decisions until after I'm done with this case," she replied.

"He's a Muggle!"

"Is he now? I didn't notice," she shot back.

"Don't you think it's a little quick?"

"That's rich, coming from you. You're already engaged! Got over it pretty damn quickly, didn't you?"

"It's a different set of circumstances. I'm willing to go home to her at the end of the day. That seems to be too much for you."

"Perhaps not everyone gets upset when their partner has an unusual schedule."

"All I can say is good luck to him. Dating you is like dating a ghost, neither one of you are really there. If you couldn't make it work with a wizard how the bloody hell do you think you're going to make it work with a Muggle?"

She turned heel and stomped back towards Spencer. She needed someone who calmed her down, and Harry was too close to the irritating redhead.

"Is everything okay?" Spencer asked as she approached.

"Nothing," she growled. "Let's just do this."

He watched her carefully as she split the teams into several groups. Three groups would go to each of the three bars with Z names. The remaining Aurors were split into three more groups, one group was going to escort Meghan and Vespasian to safety and to watch over them for the duration, another group was going to protect Meghan's family, and the final group was going to step up security at the Apparation points. She also passed out pictures of Ilse Atlantes, naming her as their 'prime suspect'.

"Is this a capture situation, or a kill?" an Auror asked.

"Of course I want you to capture if at all possible, but we have been instructed to take her down at all costs," she announced to a flurry of voices. "Obviously I want to avoid a fight or a death if at all possible. Your order from the Minister is to end it, your order from me is to capture."

The groups broke off. Hermione trusted Harry and Ron to lead Hotch and JJ to one of the bars. Alyssia and Evander took Emily and Rossi to another, and Hermione and Marius took Derek and Spencer to the last bar. Hermione, Harry, and Ron, who were the most high-profile of the bunch, all had to disguise themselves before going in. Hermione changed her eyes to vivid emerald and turned her brown hair black. To someone who was really looking she was Hermione, at a glance from a distance she was different enough to pass.

"Just try to act naturally," she said as they entered Zero Hour, a half bar, half club that seemed to be popular with people in their mid to late twenties.

"I can do that," Derek said, eying some pretty girls sitting just inside the door.

"Morgan..." she warned with a smirk.

"Just making sure, girl. Can't be too careful."

They found seats in a corner overlooking the entrance and most of the dance floor. As to not look suspicious they decided to get a round of drinks, which Hermione and Marius went to go retrieve.

"So, what's going on with you and this girl?" Derek asked Spencer.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

"I see the way you look at her. The way you were holding her hand. If there's not something there, you really want there to be."

"I don't know how she feels."

"She digs you, man. You should ask her out."

"I don't think it's the best time for her."

"You make too many excuses, and she'll be gone before you gather up the courage. You want me to talk to her for you?"

"This isn't high school," he grumbled. "I don't need you to pass a note for me."

"Ask her to dance," he suggested.

"I don't dance."

"You can't try for her?"

"I don't dance."

"Fine," he sounded irritated as Hermione and Marius appeared with the drinks.

"We did a lap. No sign of her, nor any traces of Magic," Hermione announced.

"That's good," Spencer replied. "What do you want us to do?"

"Keep an eye on the door and the floor. Watch for any women focusing on a single man, or any men acting suspiciously."

"How's this for suspicious- want to get down, baby doll?" he asked Hermione with a wink.

"I could go for a dance," she said, allowing Derek to lead her onto the dance floor. They positioned themselves so they could keep an eye around them, and started dancing together, though a good distance apart. Spencer watched, jaw set, for a minute before Derek motioned for him to come join them. Spencer shook his head. So Derek moved a little closer to Hermione. They repeated this twice before Derek would be grinding against Hermione if he moved any closer, and Spencer finally snapped.

"Your turn to watch the door," he told Derek, jerking his head back at the table. Derek patted his back before making his way back to get a drink. After that, Spencer felt the surge of confidence drain from him, and his body suddenly was suddenly rigid and not responding to any commands. Hermione moved closer to him dancing against him, getting bolder as the music shifted from a fast song to a slower, more sexually charged song. He noticed that after a while her eyes stopped scanning the room, they had closed and she was moving against him, waking emotions that he hadn't felt in a while. His nerves were alive with the heat from her body pressed against his. Her fingers lightly traced across his chest, and he could smell her sent with every intake of his breath. The room melted away as her hand trailed lazily upwards, fingers coming to rest on the back of his head, drawing him slowly forward towards her...

A large crash broke them both out of their trance. Hermione cursed and rushed off to find the source, Marius not far behind. Spencer quickly retreated to their table, trying to catch the breath he had been holding.

"Way to go, Reid," Derek smirked, clapping him on the back before returning his gaze to the door.

"You saw that?" he blushed.

"Half the club saw that. You need to ask her out. After that, I doubt she'd say no."

Hermione and Marius returned, announcing that two Muggles had got into a fight. Hermione took a spot next to Spencer, but she didn't ask him to dance again. The small group shifted turns taking laps around the bar looking for Ilse, but the dark witch never showed, and they left at closing time. Hermione checked in with the other groups, but there had been no sign of their quarry. Spencer chose to go back to Hermione's room with her to look over things one more time, and bid Derek goodnight as she used the Portkey to spirit him away.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I realized I wouldn't be able to update on Sunday, so I decided to shift my self-imposed due date for this chapter and the next one one day as a bit of a gift.**

**Ye be warned- here be lemons. If citrus leaves a bad taste in your mouth, you may want to skip the second part of this chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Could you change that?" Spencer asked as they walked through the door of her room.

"Change what?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Your hair and eyes. They're a little disconcerting."

"Oh!" she said, hands flying to her head. "I had honestly forgotten I had done it." She muttered a couple spells, and was back to normal.

"Thank you. Now I don't feel like I'm talking to some kind of stranger."

"I guess I'm strange enough without changing my appearance," she mumbled with a stifled yawn.

"Do you need to lay down for a bit?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"No," she said, shaking her head to wake herself up. "I'll be okay. Do you have the file on the Atlantes family?"

"I think it might be downstairs, the clerk wasn't there when we walked past. Let me run to get it for you," he said, ducking out of the room. As he had thought the clerk had the file, which had been sent over by the Ministry, at the desk. He signed for it and headed back upstairs.

"Got it," he said, entering the room. Hermione was sitting, head resting on the table, eyes closed.

"Hermione?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to her. His heart flew into his throat in a moment of panic, and he called her name one more time, but still got no response. Rushing to her side he noticed that her shoulders were moving softly up and down, and she let off a soft sigh. In the five minutes it had taken him to retrieve the file Hermione's body had finally shut down, and was forcing her to rest.

Placing the file on the table, he shook her gently. "Let's get you into bed," he muttered as she stirred slightly. It took all his strength, but he placed an arm around her midsection and hoisted her up. She managed to walk alongside him to the bed. He lowered her onto the edge of the bed, and she started fumbling with the buttons of her jacket. When she hadn't accomplished one in thirty seconds he moved her hands away, then unfastened them himself and pulled the jacket off her. Then he helped lower her onto the pillow, and he covered her with a blanket.

"You can sleep with me if you want," she whispered, eyes already closed.

"Excuse me?" he replied in shock, a rush of excitement passing over him before he was able to supress it with what he was sure was the right, non-sexual meaning of the words.

"Right here," she said, patting the other side of the bed before curling her arm under herself.

"Thank you," he muttered, thinking he'd crash on the couch as soon as she was asleep.

"You smelled nice. In the club. You smelled nice."

He gave her a half-smile.

"If it wasn't for that bloody distraction..." she trailed off before her body went limp and she let off another soft sigh indicating she was asleep.

Closing the French doors behind him he pulled off his sweater vest and tie, folded them, and laid them carefully on one of the chairs. He emptied his pockets, badge, wallet, keys, phone, and finally his gun belt all went on top of the clothing. He sat on the couch and stared at the French doors, thinking of the girl who was lying asleep on the other side of them. He had never experienced anything like their moment on the dance floor, and he cursed the drunken idiots who couldn't wait a few more seconds to take swings at each other. Just another second or two...

Sighing to himself he laid down. The couch was wide and deep, designed more for comfort than for company, he could stretch out on it in any direction and not worry about falling off the edge. But it would be much more comfortable with a pillow and a blanket, so he decided to wander back into the bedroom to search out some extras.

The candles on the wall were still lit, casting just enough light over the room that he didn't trip on anything. The comforter was kicked onto the side of the bed Hermione didn't use, so he carefully wrapped it around his arms, holding his breath as he had to tug part of it out from underneath Hermione's legs. There was an extra pillow, which was resting under one of her hands, but she wasn't clutching it, so he thought he would be able to carefully slide it out as he had done with the blanket. He grabbed one corner and tugged, but as she did stirred slightly.

"Stay, Spencer," she whispered, half-incoherent.

"Are you sure?"

"Stay," she murmured again, though he had to strain to hear it, and would never be completely sure it was what she said.

He climbed into the bed next to her, covering himself with the comforter. Her hand was resting near his head on the pillow, so he reached up and wrapped her hand in his.

"Goodnight, beautiful witch," he murmured, before closing his eyes and let his exhaustion lead him into a deep sleep.

* * *

He stirred to the smell of Shepherd's Pie wafting through the cracked French doors. He turned over, but Hermione's side of the bed was vacant. He got up, stretched, and used the bathroom before he wandered through the doors. Hermione, now dressed in a comfortable looking pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt touting the Weird Sisters, was sitting at the table, bent over a file, a half-eaten plate next to her with a dish of the remaining food next to that, a carafe of coffee sitting across the table, a spare mug placed deliberately next to it.

"Good morning," she said, without looking up. "Well, technically good afternoon, but only by half an hour."

"Seven hours. That's the most that I've gotten since I've come to Chicago," he replied, stepping forward.

"It's why I didn't wake you. You looked peaceful. I've contacted both of our teams, let them know we're going to have to repeat our night out tonight, and told them to get some rest. There's a good chance that she's going to make an appearance tonight."

"Probably," he murmured.

"By the way, the clothes you left here the first night have been cleaned. They're in the top drawer."

"Thanks," he smiled, pouring a cup of coffee and retreating back into the bedroom to change. When he emerged again she had finished eating, and was sitting on the couch, feet curled up underneath herself, eyes still glued to the file.

"There should be a law that your family tree has to fork," she muttered. "These people have been marrying cousins for centuries. Every single one of the families at Tatum Putus is related to each other, and they're obviously still intermarrying if there's at least two arranged marriages we know about."

"It's actually quite common for people of a certain status to practice endogamy, because they are the only ones that match their social status. Royals have been doing it for a long time to protect their nobility, and in some cultures it was used as a way to secure alliances. It's also seen in small, isolated towns, with the Romany, with the caste system in India, and with the Ashkenazi to name a couple. It's sometimes encouraged in religious groups where conversion isn't an option, even the Catholic Church in the United States encouraged it be practiced between its members in the forties and fifties."

"Never made me happier to be a Muggle-born. I'd hate to go to my family reunion and try looking for my spouse," she grumbled, rolling her neck to work out the stiffness.

"Do you go to family reunions at all anymore, now that you're a witch?" he asked, sitting next to her, so close the sides of their bodies were pressed against each other. He didn't adjust to give her some space despite the large size of the couch.

"I haven't been to one since I was fourteen, right before I went to the Quidditch World Cup. Everything changed so much that year, I was too afraid to be seen with my family for fear of making them targets," she answered.

"Is it tough being magic when your family isn't?"

"I only have my mother and father, so I don't have to worry about jealous siblings. When I went on the run I modified my parent's memories, and made them believe that they never had children and that they wanted nothing more than to go live in Australia. They did that, and after the war I found out they had set up a dental practice down there. And the thought that I had planted in their head about wanting to live in Australia for the rest of their lives had become somewhat self-fulfilling. I think they were pretty sore at me for sending them away, then taking three months to go get them. They told me we had grown apart, and that if they weren't going to see me all that often they may as well stay in Australia. How could I fight their logic? I think they would have moved back if I was more willing to tie myself to the Muggle community, to go to a Muggle college and get a job working with Muggles, while practicing magic only in the safety of my home and when I was visiting my magic friends. But I wanted to work in the Magical world, to live in the magical world, to raise my children with magic. I can see how they think I chose magic over them."

"Do you ever go visit?" he asked, transfixed on the information.

"When I have the chance. I try to go visit for dinner on their birthdays, and for the holidays, but I don't always get the chance. My mum's birthday is coming up next month, but from what I hear my inbox at the Ministry is ghastly, and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to spend the weekend like she wants. How about you? Any siblings?"

"No, I was an only child, too. My dad left us when I was young, and my mom is, er, was distant."

"But you told me you write to her every day?" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"My mom is sick. She lives in a place that takes care of her. I, um, I put her there."

"May I ask why? It's okay if you don't tell me."

"She has paranoid schizophrenia," he whispered. "I had to live with it growing up. It was hard not knowing what I was going to come home to. So when I turned eighteen I had her put into a sanitarium. I write her every day to let her know what I'm doing because I don't get a lot of time to go see her."

She hugged him, pressing her body into his, her breath warm on his neck. "It's not easy to make the decision to send your family away. But sometimes it's for the best. Am I sad my parents don't want to see me? Of course. But I also saw what happened to my house. All we have left is the clothes and money I sent my parents with and what I managed to pack in my bag. My house was destroyed, completely leveled, and my parents' bodies would have been in there if I hadn't done what I did. And I know the Death Eaters did it."

"How do you know?"

"They sent me a message, if you could call it that," she snorted. "They left the big family portrait we had over our mantle, a pretty painted thing Dad and I got Mum for her fiftieth birthday, sitting right on top of the charred remains of every other thing in the house. They had blasted my parents' faces off the picture, and someone had written 'dog food' across my face in what looked like blood. It was a not-so-subtle warning that I was to be given to Greyback. Of course I didn't find any of this out until after the war. I went back home to see what I could save, and my neighbor told me the fire fighters had tried for hours to put the flames out. They couldn't. The picture was the only thing that wasn't destroyed. And no one was able to clear out the rubble until after the war. I'd be more than willing to bet that was Bellatrix's doing."

"I got sent a bit more of a direct message. I was quite the punching bag at school."

"For being smart?"

"I graduated high school at the age of twelve. I beat out my classmates in grades and test scores. It wasn't a good way to endear myself. So, whenever someone felt the need to beat someone up, lets just say a twelve year old is pretty easy to catch."

"Not if that twelve year old has magic. They never managed to catch me, I always just managed to elude them. Of course, that didn't help my reputation at all. I thought things would be different at Hogwarts, but even Harry and Ron gave me grief before we became friends. I was the odd one out in the dormitory because I was more interested in getting my homework done early than their talk about makeup and boys."

"You managed to date someone."

"The funny thing was that as socially awkward as I was, as soon as I managed to snag a date I was portrayed as somewhat of a loose woman in the press. That didn't help my self-esteem any."

"A loose woman?" he chuckled.

"This complete cow, Rita Skeeter, somehow got it into her head that I was involved with Harry, and because she thought it so did half the wizarding world. So when I actually started seeing Viktor Krum she let the whole wizarding world know that I was a hussy who was breaking Harry's heart. It wasn't true in the slightest, and Krum and I were never more than good friends, but it made me reserved around men for a while. If I so much as looked at a boy I was afraid I'd start the rumors again."

"At least you managed to date someone," he repeated in a mutter.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. There are some boy-related moments I'd be more than willing to Obliviate from my memory," she laughed.

"It would be nice to be able to just lose some memories," he sighed, a list running through his head of all the memories he'd like to not have anymore.

"No, sir," she said, placing her hand on his face and forcing him to look at her. "You're thinking about the bad things, and I don't want you to do that. You get this sad look on your face, and I'm going to be selfish and say that I only like seeing your smile."

"You like my smile?" he said, unwittingly flashing it.

"Of course. I'm going to miss it when this case is over."

His face fell. "What's going to happen when the case is over?"

"Do you want the Ministry approved answer?" she asked, looking at the floor and wringing her hands.

"Sure."

"I have to modify the memory of everyone on your team, and avoid seeing all of you so you don't have any deja vu moment that might trigger any kind of memory."

"Really?" he said, sounding disappointed. "What's the non-Ministry approved answer?"

"Why are you so worried about this?" she whispered as they studied each others eyes.

"Because I've never gotten along with anyone, much less a woman, quite like I get along with you. It's like I've met someone who truly gets me, and I haven't felt like this before. I know that if you modify our memories I won't remember you, but I think I'll realize that somethings missing that I had before, something that made me really happy."

She bit her lip, then leaned forward. Softly, tentatively she pressed her lips to his. His hand clutched at her arm, pulling her into the kiss, refusing to let her go but not holding her in place at the same time. She clutched at his shirt like he would disappear if she released him. Slowly their lips started dancing against each others, a dance meant to stoke the fire between them. Her tongue ran over his lips, and his came out to meet hers. Her body melted against his, relaxing as they finally shared the kiss that seemed to have eluded them.

Unexpectedly she gently bit his lower lip and scratched her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, eliciting an uncontrolled groan from him. His arms snaked around her, pulling her tightly to him. She responded by wrapping a leg around him so their bodies were completely entwined. He could feel her chest rising and falling against his as she forced herself to breathe while not breaking their embrace. The peaks of her breasts strained against her t-shirt, she had forgone wearing a bra for comfort. Everything, the feel of her against him, the taste of her on his lips, the scent of her so close to him, was driving him crazy. There was nothing he wanted more than to make the moment last forever.

Her lips trailed from his lips, kissing his nose, his eyelids, all over his face, before tracing back so she could gently suck and nip on his earlobe and the skin around it. He moaned, fingers digging into her flesh, feeling his control slowly being taken away by the witch who was now half on top of him.

"Tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable," her now-husky voice whispered into his ear before she kissed down his jaw line, traced kisses over his Adam's apple, and gently sucked on the spot where his collarbone and his neck met. One of her hands slid around his body, up his torso, and started fumbling with his tie. She took her time pulling it off him, he felt the silk sliding across his shirt torturously slowly, making him need her to move faster.

She backed off him, kissing his lips one more long, slow time before she unfastened his top button, studying his face for any kind of reaction. His eyes were pleading with her to keep going, to never stop what she was doing to him, but he also looked more nervous than he had ever looked to her before, like she would be disapproving or reject him. She unfastened each button, leaving his shirt where it was until the last button was undone. Keeping her eyes locked onto his she pulled the shirt off of him. He swallowed hard as she looked him over, running her fingertips over his skin, a smile widening across her face before she bent down and kissed him passionately, hands never leaving his torso.

"Would it make you more comfortable if I was the same?" she asked, moving one of his hands so it was on the hem of her shirt.

"Yes," he replied in a shaky voice. She peeled the tight t-shirt off herself, exposing her torso and breasts to him. His fingers immediately went to trace one of the thin scars that crossed her body.

"It's not easy to get out of a war without some damage," she muttered as he traced another.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he muttered.

She pulled him back to her, lips crashing into him as she swung her leg completely over him and coming to rest on his lap. Hesitantly his hands ran up her sides and began to massage her breasts, and she rewarded the motion with a moan and a buck of her hips against his. With their new position there was no hiding how much he was enjoying her attentions, and how much he wanted her. With every small shift of her hips his pants grew tighter around him. His fingers gently rolled the peaks of her breasts, and she raked her fingers across his shoulders. She lifted herself off him enough to position her breast by his face.

"Please," she begged him, and he responded by gently pulling her left nub into his mouth. She moaned, kissing the top of his head, running her fingers over his scalp and feeling him relax beneath her. He switched, being a little more forceful and daring with her other breast, causing her to purr her pleasure.

"Do you want it all, Spencer?" she whispered to him.

He pulled away to look her in the eyes.

"Tell me if you don't. I want you, but I don't want to push you too far."

"I want... everything," he replied, and for a second she swore his eyes were looking past hers and into her soul.

She stood up and pulled her wand out of her pocket. She placed it on her stomach and muttered a spell.

"Contraceptive charm," she explained as he looked at her in confusion. She bent over and pulled his belt off him, then unfastened the button of his slacks, but she didn't pull them off. Instead she stood up and made a show of slowly pulling her jeans and panties off her body. He watched her hungrily, and didn't seem at all nervous when she pulled his pants and boxers off. She bent over, started kissing just above his groin, moving slowly upwards until she was back to his neck and able to slide herself back onto his lap. He could feel her slick folds running over him, and he pulled her to him, crashing into her kiss-swollen lips with more urgency than either had felt in a while. She guided him into her, and moaned as he pushed all the way in. Neither of them moved their hips for a minute as they got used to the feeling of each other. Slowly she started moving her hips against his, rising and falling, her skin sliding over his. Her hands rested on his shoulders, gripping tightly. His hands traced the muscles of her back as they tensed, then relaxed, then tensed again. His eyes wouldn't leave her face, even as her eyes were closed in concentration, her mouth parted slightly, a nearly inaudible gasp escaping each time she lowered herself onto him. Occasionally she switched movements, rotating her hips in a circle or a figure eight, or rolling them against him. He leaned forward and gently kissed her neck, then looked up to see a reaction.

"Yes, Spencer," she hissed, moving one hand to hold him to her. He started kissing more passionately, gently sucking her skin or nuzzling her to better inhale her scent.

He felt himself getting close, so he placed his hands on her hips to stop her. Carefully he laid her down on the couch and positioned himself between her legs. He kissed her as he entered her again, and she wrapped her legs tightly around him. Both her hands were tangled in his hair, forcing him to keep their lip-lock, and she rocked her hips upwards to meet each of his thrusts. Every time he slid into her she moaned into his mouth, which was pushing him continuously towards his climax. When he slowed his movements she moved more insistently against him, begging him for more, and as much as he wanted to give her everything she wanted he kept his movements slow and steady for a while, until she stopped demanding it. When she started allowing him to control the rhythm he sped up like she had been asking for. Her lips were torn from his as her head rolled back, a moan of his name urging him on. Her muscles began to tighten around him, first her arms tightened their grip, then her legs pulled him further into her, and her inner walls clamped around him. Her breath hitched a couple times, her breasts pressed into him, and she finally broke as waves of pleasure washed over her. He allowed himself to spill into her, his own breath coming raggedly, his arms struggling to keep from collapsing on her. Her heavily-lidded eyes locked onto his, a satisfied smile playing across her face. He moved to collapse next to her, and she moved so they were lying face-to-face on the couch, legs entwined with each other. His arms wrapped around her, her hands cupped his face, occasionally pulling him forward for a long, sensual kiss.

They laid there for a long time, unwilling to talk or to break apart. Leaving each other's arms would bring them back to reality, and they'd have to face the consequences of what just happened between them.


	13. Chapter 13

"We've asked everyone who has manned every single one of those Apparation checkpoints. No one has seen her. Either she's staying in the city or she's moving in Muggle ways," Harry's voice floated quietly around him as he started to stir. He was still on the couch, still naked, but someone had covered him with a blanket and placed a pillow under his head. A strange green light softly filled the room, and he knew it was from the Floo conversation Hermione was having. The rest of the room was dark, it must be getting late. He didn't move, he let Hermione have a conversation with her friend.

"I never expected her to show up. She's in this city, and she has business to attend to. She's not leaving until it's done," Hermione replied, straining to keep her voice low.

"The Minister is talking about restricting all Apparation for non law enforcement officials in the city."

"The Minister is a prat. Cutting off her mode of transportation isn't going to stop her. It's just going to mean a body in an alley instead of a bedroom. Though, speaking of transportation, I want the Canadian Aurors that arrived today on broomsticks patrolling the borders of the city to keep her from getting out that way. Anyone trying to get out on broomstick is to be brought to a checkpoint to be logged."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, sounding serious. "I'll pass it along."

"What about Vespasian and Meghan?" she sounded concerned.

"They're fine. We're hiding them, but I'm not going to say where over the Floo. Her family, too. All of them are under our protection, and ready to move at the drop of a hat. We're trying to keep Meghan in as a stress-free environment as possible for the sake of the baby, but she's been asking for you."

"I wish I could help her, but I'll be more help by staying here and catching Ilse."

"I know. Where's Spencer? I've had a job watching Hotchner today. He's nearly throwing a fit over here because Reid's not answering his phone."

"His phone wouldn't work in my hotel, would it?" she replied in a sultry tone.

"Oh!" Harry laughed. "Where is he?"

"Resting. I was going to wake him up soon."

"Now by resting, do you mean 'I need a nap'-resting, or 'I just had an amazing shag'-resting?"

She responded in silence, Spencer bet she was giving Harry a look.

"Congratulations. I had a feeling that was going to happen. What does this mean for you two now?"

Spencer's heart jumped to his throat. He was about to hear Hermione's true feelings about him.

"I really don't know, Harry," she replied truthfully. "I like him. A lot. But with my lifestyle..."

"Did what Ron said to you get to you?" Harry sounded irritated at his redheaded friend.

"Kind of. I don't know what to do."

"What's your heart telling you?"

"It's telling me I need to catch this bloody killer, that's what it's telling me!" she snapped. "I can't think clearly because of this bloody case!"

"There's a really, really good chance we'll catch her tonight. Then you'll be free to do all sorts of nasty things to Spencer."

"Harry..."

"Don't talk yourself out of something good. Again. If you're willing to give up on something good like this, perhaps you need to rethink your priorities."

"Thanks, mum," she grumbled.

"We're heading back to the bar in about an hour. Hotchner talked to the manager, who is reserving us a table in the VIP section, one that looks over the door and the main area. JJ is going to be working at the bar, and the rest of us will always have one of us doing a round."

"I knew I could count on you," Spencer could hear the relieved smile in her voice.

"I love you, 'Mione. I just want you happy. And if I have to take down another psycho, that's what I'll do. That's just a normal Tuesday as far as I'm concerned."

She chuckled. "Take care of yourself, Harry. Tell Ron to take care of himself, too."

"I will, and you take care of yourself and Spencer. Good luck."

"Good luck," she replied, and the green light was replaced by the flickering orange glow of regular fire. There was the padding of footsteps coming towards him, and he shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep so Hermione didn't know he had overheard her conversation. He felt her sinking down onto the couch next to him, her hand resting on his arm, and he could feel her eyes studying him.

She watched him sleeping, considering what they had just done together. It had felt so right. He was tender, so concerned about her, and their kisses felt, well, magical. Something had stirred in her, something she never really felt with Ron, and afterwards Spencer had her mind completely off the case and daring to wander to white dresses and quiet houses on secluded streets. She had never craved the presence of another person the way she craved Spencer's, and it was exciting and a little scary to her. He understood her, inside and out, and what he had told her right before their first kiss had made her realize that he was feeling more than just a physical connection between them as well.

What to do? If there was anyone out there who understood her schedule and the nature of her work it was the man next to her. And she was sure that he would be more than willing to put up with long absences, as long as there was some form of communication between them. And she would be able to travel. It would be kind of draining, but the effort would probably be worth it. Spencer would be the flexible, patient lover that Ron never was. But there was a good chance that there would never be a time where one of them wasn't on a case. And she started to wonder how serious a relationship she could have in that situation.

He was also thinking about the two of them as he lay there, pretending to be asleep. She had told him that she was supposed to erase all memories he had of her, which would include their lovemaking session. But she hadn't answered him when he asked what her true intentions were when it came to what she was really going to do after the case was over. It was obvious she was willing to fly in the face of Ministry protocol, she had already done it a couple times in front of him. Perhaps she would be willing to do it for him. She had to have at least a hint of an idea of what she did to him, how much he felt about her. Didn't she?

It was hard for him to consider a relationship for several reasons. The first, and certainly not the least concerning to him, was that he wasn't quite sure how to carry on a serious relationship with someone. Girls usually found him 'cute' and 'quirky' when they first met him, which was great to pique their interest, but it never carried him very far in the relationship. Derek told him once that he needed to tone the 'know-it-all' down a little bit, but he found it difficult to hide who he truly was, and his intelligence usually found a way to make it through. Sometimes it was a subject he enjoyed talking about, but more often it was him correcting the girl on something she was mistaken on. Not a turn-on, he realized, but it just slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. But Hermione could not only keep up with everything the 'know-it-all' could serve, she could volley it back at him just as quickly. She didn't seem to mind his somewhat awkward behavior, it actually seemed to be somewhat endearing to her. And, for some reason that escaped him, she found him physically attractive as well.

He knew pursuing a relationship with Hermione would require a lot of patience. They were both hard workers, and it wasn't fair to place all the burden of visiting on her, but there was really no way for him to travel as easily as she could. He couldn't step into a fireplace and step out seconds later halfway around the world. He didn't have the ability to travel across the city just by disappearing and reappearing. It was an odd feeling, this feeling that the scales were so tipped against him. When he approached a woman (or, more often, when a woman approached him) he was usually the awkward one, and felt as though he was somewhat on an even playing field due to his intelligence and interesting job. It was enough to at least keep the woman there for a little while. But when it came to Hermione he felt he had no advantages. She was just as intelligent, just as well-read, her job was just as interesting, if not more so. He thought she was obviously more attractive than he was, with much more confidence and charisma. And then, of course, there was the fact that she was a war-hero witch who was known throughout a world he had no idea existed a few days prior. He was a lowly Muggle, no one in her world would be impressed by him, would they? The press had gotten to her before, would she leave him when they started blasting her choice in partner?

He was brought out of his thoughts by the feeling of Hermione's lips pressing to his temple.

"Spencer?" she muttered into his hair.

"Yes?" he replied, opening his eyes and looking up at her. Her hair was still messy, her lips still swollen, she was still the most beautiful sight he ever saw. How could he give this up so soon without a fight?

"It's time to get ready to go," she whispered. She cupped his face with her hand for a moment, then moved to pull it away. Knowing he had to make a move he grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her down to him so he could kiss her.

She was smiling, but looking conflicted as she pulled away and went towards her room. She closed the doors behind her, and he was missing her presence before he started picking his clothes off the floor and putting them back on. They had no time to talk about their relationship, and if there was ever a time he needed to talk to someone about a relationship, it was right now. But no, it was back to business. He would get dressed, go to the club, and try to find this unsub. If he saw Ilse he couldn't take her down himself, he and Derek would have to hand over the reigns to the Aurors, and it would be his job to try to get as many Muggles out of the line of fire as possible. Yes, he helped Hermione figure out who the unsub probably was, but other than that he and his team were pretty much useless. If Hermione had waited a few days, until she made the discovery of the mark herself, there would have been no point to ever approach him. He and his team would be back at Police Headquarters right now, debating anything they could think of about the unsub, not knowing there were wizards and witches staking out the bars they would be staking out that night. Would the Ministry of Magic even bother telling the Muggles that the killer was gone? How would they spin the story if they did? Or would they just let the Muggles think the killer stopped but was still loose somewhere, making his team look ineffective? What would his world be like if he didn't know Hermione existed?

He might just get the answer to that last one in a couple days if Hermione went with what the Ministry wanted her to do.

* * *

Hermione had disguised herself again, but it didn't stop Spencer from holding her hand as they entered the bar. Derek and Marius were waiting at their same table. Marius seemed unfazed by their intimate gesture, but Derek raised an eyebrow as they approached.

"A quick lap checking for a magical signature?" Marius asked Hermione.

"Let's go," she nodded, and she followed him into the crowd.

Spencer noticed Derek was staring at him, a look halfway between amusement and amazement on his face. "What?" he asked.

Derek responded by pushing his hair back and poking at a spot just below his ear. "That's interesting," he smirked.

"What is?"

"Oh, look, you have another one," he said, poking another spot just above his collarbone. "Oh, and a third!" he said, poking nearly the same spot on the other side of his neck.

"A third what?"

"A third hickey. You are marked, Reid."

"Oh," he muttered, glad the darkness in the club hid the color rushing to his cheeks.

"So. You and Hermione?"

"Complicated," he replied.

"It doesn't look complicated. It looks like you two finally played off the tension we could feel across the room last night."

Spencer didn't reply, instead he pretended to be interested in the door.

"Listen, man, you know I usually have the 'you have to make the choice yourself' attitude towards relationships, but I have to speak up here. You like this girl. She obviously likes you, too. But I know you. You're the type to sit on a number for a week before you make up your mind and build up the courage to ask someone out. It's not going to work with this one. You let her walk out the door to her magical world after we catch this unsub, and you're never going to see her again. You have to make a move now. When she gets back I'll take Marius for drinks. You make your move then, man, or you're not going to get a chance to make it."

"Just let me get up a little more courage before I ask her out?" he pleaded, not wanting to explain why he was feeling hesitant to ask Hermione out.

"Don't wait too long," he nodded.

Hermione and Marius returned, and the group got to talking a little bit. Spencer could feel Derek watching every move that went on between him and Hermione, from the light touches on the arms, to the quick glances exchanged.

Just after midnight he thought he had the courage. Hermione was laughing at a story Derek was telling her about one of their cases, and he felt his confidence surge again.

"Hey, Hermione?" he asked.

"What's up, Spencer?" she turned to him.

"Do you think that maybe..." he trailed off, the surge disappearing, his bravery failing. "Er, do you think that maybe you'd, um... You want another drink?"

Derek winced.

Hermione looked at her mostly full glass. "I think I'm good, Spencer."

"Oh. Right," Spencer replied. He shot a look at Derek, who mouthed 'blew it'.

"I'm going to go contact the other teams," Hermione muttered. She strode out the door so she could have a conversation in her two-way mirror without being noticed.

"Time for another lap?" Marius asked Derek.

"On it," Derek replied. "When I come back, you better be working some of your magic," he hissed to Spencer as he walked past.

Spencer leaned on the table, wanting nothing more to bang his head against it, but since they were trying not to attract attention this was a bad idea. Stupid, stupid, stup...

"Finally, I get you away from your Mudblood whore," a voice whispered in his ear before the world suddenly began to fade.

* * *

"Everything's all quiet here," Ron said over the enchanted mirror. "The music is bad, the food is worse..."

"I didn't send you to give it a review, I sent you to make sure Ilse doesn't show up."

"Nothing. We've been checking for magical traces on everyone who comes in. Evander used the Confundus on the bouncer, so the bouncer thinks he's training Evander. All Evander is doing is checking for magical signatures."

"That's a pretty clever idea," she beamed. "Perhaps I could get Marius to..." she trailed off as a shocking sight came to her eyes as she glanced back at the bar across the street. Spencer was leaving behind a woman. She certainly didn't look like Ilse, except the eyes were poorly concealed. Those were Ilse's cold, calculating eyes. Spencer walked behind her a little too stiffly, his eyes unfocused, despite the act that Ilse was putting on like they were some kind of couple. They started walking towards the alley Hermione was standing in. She quickly ducked behind a dumpster.

"Shit!" Hermione hissed. "She's here. And she has Spencer. He's Imperiused."

"We'll be there right away!" Ron replied.

"Get Derek and Marius. I'm going to follow them."

"Right," he muttered before his image in the mirror disappeared. Hermione peeked around the dumpster. Ilse and Spencer were standing just past the opening of the alley, he was holding her in an intimate embrace that she, despite acting like she liked it, was clearly repulsed by. It was for show, there was a group of passing Muggles who had stopped long enough to cheer Spencer on.

As a precaution Hermione waved her wand at Spencer's pants, casting a nonverbal tracking spell. She straightened up, doing her best not to make a sound, ready to jump out and cast spells the second the Muggles had passed.

"Hey!" a voice called at her from the other end of the Alley. She turned and saw a large Muggle man stomping towards her. "I've told your type, you can't do business here!"

"I'm not..." she started, turning back to Spencer and Ilse, but they were gone. "Bloody hell!" she growled. She Stupefied the man, and his unconscious figure fell to the ground. She rushed to the spot Spencer had disappeared at and, feeling the magical trail he had left behind, disappeared to follow him.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This wasn't 'due' until tomorrow, but between work, some appointments I have to go to, and the Bears game to watch on Monday night I'm going to post this today to save my timeline and my sanity. Yes, I am one of those people who schedule things around my team's football game. **

**Thanks again to everyone who left a review so far. You guys are awesome, and thoe ones who make me want to make sure I post a day early rather than a day late. **

**I already have a spin-off of this story in the works. Things will probably pick up a little bit when I get used to my work schedule. As it is, I'm still bouncing between the coffee high that helps me work that early in the morning and the walking zombie I become once the caffeine wears off. Why I ever tried to quit coffee is beyond me.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

She reappeared in the parking lot of a cheap motel, unable to follow the trail all the way to the room. Ilse must have protected the area. Swearing she looked up and down the motel, wondering which way to go. Thinking quickly she ran her wand over the necklace Spencer had given to her, then held her wand in her opened palm. It spun around, pointing up to the second floor, towards the other end. She bolted up the stairs and ran towards the end of the motel, not allowing herself to think of what might happen because of the delay.

In the second room to the end she heard a high-pitched voice through the door. She pressed herself to the wall and listened.

"...like Mudblood scum like her to sink so low as to go around fucking Muggles!" Ilse was ranting on the other side of the door. "I bet you were so excited to be able to touch a witch, even if she's a magic-thief and filth. I guess bottom feeders do breed."

Hermione sent off a quick Patronus message to Harry and Ron to tell them where she was.

"Hermione is a wonderful woman who will take you down," Spencer said, his voice trembling. Ilse had lifted the Imperius curse, wanting him to watch as she killed him.

"That Mudblood Granger will lose everything because of me. I will destroy her, piece by piece, after I take care of the slut Lentz. Of course, I have you here, so I'll start with that. Avada..."

Hermione stepped back and blasted the door open, cutting Ilse off as she was rained with debris of the destroyed wall. Hermione stepped into the room as the dust settled, her wand pointed at Ilse's chest. Ilse took a couple steps back, enough for Hermione to grab Spencer's arm and pull him behind her. They could hear the screams of Muggles from nearby rooms who were running for cover.

"Hermione Granger," Ilse smirked. "I knew that you would come to save your paramour from the grip of death. How heroic. I expected him to be dead by the time you got here, but it's so much better this way, don't you think? He'd never be in this spot if it weren't for you. I saw you yesterday, before you changed your hair and eyes. I saw the way you held his hand. What a better way to lure the World's Biggest Mudblood to me than to take her lover, and use him as bait? I knew you'd come to rescue him. It's so predictable."

"Drop your wand, Ilse," Hermione ordered.

Ilse chuckled. "Why should I do that? It seems like we're both on even ground here. If anything, I have an advantage. Or are you going to throw the Muggle out like the piece of trash he is?"

"You think that I'm alone?"

"I don't see anyone else. I'll admit, you're clever enough to have followed us here. You've probably told them where to find us. But they're not here yet. It's just us, Mudblood."

"It's the end, Ilse."

"It's never the end! Your kind will always steal magic, and it's up to those of us with honor to take care of filth like you."

"You're not upset at Hermione for stealing magic, you're upset that one like her stole your man, the one you were supposed to marry, and befouled him," Spencer shot at her, and Hermione managed to keep the surprise from her face.

"Stop it!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare speak to me!"

"Can't handle it?" Hermione taunted. She realized what Spencer had been trying to do, he wanted to keep her talking as much as possible, give her team as much time to show up and help her, and she was more than happy to play along and buy herself as much time as possible. "Can't handle a simple little Muggle talking to you?"

"You act so righteous. And yet you call him simple. Is he your toy? Your plaything to fuck and throw away?"

"I always treated my toys better than that," she replied.

"Were you a toy, then? One who got thrown away? The Blood-Traitor dumped you, and gets engaged to a Half-blood, which is a step up from the basement. At least their children will have their magic legitimately. But you are the worst kind of Muggle-born. You have to flaunt it, have to prove to everyone how good you are. We both know you're nothing more than a pathetic little girl who lucked out and figured out how to take magic from those whose right it is."

"Must have been something more than luck, since your lot hasn't been able to kill me. They had me on their property, wandless, tortured, and they still couldn't manage to get rid of me."

"That just proves to me that you're a cockroach. One that needs to be exterminated," she growled before hurling a curse at Hermione. Hermione pulled Spencer out of the way, tried to push him towards the door, but he wasn't leaving her. Hermione shot a spell back, but missed Ilse by inches as the younger witch shot a stunning spell, and Hermione was forced to put up a blocking spell, knocking the jet of red light into the television, which exploded on impact, a shard of glass slicing across Hermione's arm causing an instant splash of red across the beige carpet. Ilse jumped backwards in surprise, and Hermione took the opportunity to push Spencer to the ground. The table pulled itself from the floor and flew in front of him, protecting him from the Stunner that hit where his head had been a second before, shattering the window and continuing until it hit a garbage can on the other side of the parking lot.

In the split second it took Hermione to protect Spencer Ilse straightened and cried, "Crucio!" Hermione fell to the ground, her shrieks of pain echoing around the room. Her wand rolled from her hand, coming to rest at Ilse's foot.

"Hermione!" Spencer cried, looking at her writhing body in panic. He needed to do something, anything, so he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his gun, stood up, lined up his shot and pulled the trigger.

Ilse had seen him standing, and let up the curse as he did. As he pulled the trigger her wand slashed through the air. The bullet shot back at Spencer, hitting him in the right side of his stomach. He fell, clutching at the wound, the gun clattering to the floor.

"Expelliarmis!" Hermione cried. In her hand was Bellatrix's wand, which she had pulled from her back pocket. A jet of light erupted from her wand, hitting Ilse, and sending her wand flying towards Hermione. Without wasting another second Hermione waved the wand again, and thick black ropes wound themselves around Ilse. Unable to move, but fighting anyways, the witch fell to the ground, twisting to free herself from the tight bindings.

"Spencer?" Hermione called, crawling over to him. She pushed him onto his back, and gasped as she saw the blood spreading over his shirt. Without a word she ripped the shirt open, pressed the wand to the wound, and started muttering something in Latin. Outside the room there was the sound of several sets of footsteps.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron shouted together.

"Reid's down! Reid's down!" she heard Derek shouting behind them. "Single gunshot wound to the abdomen. Suspect is in custody."

They heard the call repeated over the radio, and several sirens start sounding nearby. Evander and Marius grabbed a still-fighting Ilse and dragged her out the door. Still Hermione bent over Reid, muttering the spell. The bleeding slowed, but the wound didn't close. Two minutes later she suddenly stowed her wand, and she allowed Harry and Ron to pull her out of the room as three paramedics entered the room and began working on Reid.

"You have to be seen, too, 'Mione," Harry insisted, noticing she was having difficulty walking.

"No," she said. "I want to stay with Spencer."

"The best thing you can do for him right now is to let the paramedics do their jobs."

"Ilse?"

"They're taking her to the Ministry. She was ranting about how you and all those Muggles got what you deserved."

"Miss?" a paramedic from another ambulance came up to her. "My name is Marie. May I help you?"

"I don't need help," Hermione responded.

"You have quite the nasty cut on your arm, and you look like you may be in shock. May we please just take your vitals and see if we can get that thing cleaned up and the bleeding stopped?"

"You should be seen," a deep, authoritative voice sounded.

"Bloody Hell," Hermione growled. "When did you get here, Kingsley?"

"Earlier today. I stopped by after visiting with the American Minister. You were already at the bar. What happened in there?"

Hermione shot a look at the paramedic.

"We're Obliviating," Kingsley assured her.

"She hit me with the Cruciatus..." she managed, but the thought of it brought the pain back. She was unable to stifle her cry of pain as she sunk to her knees, then to her side, her body curling itself into the fetal position in an effort to block the pain radiating from her bones. Harry and Ron were kneeling by her sides, trying to soothe her out of it. Kingsley was talking to the paramedic, but it was the faces of the rest of the BAU team, who had come to her to try to figure out what happened, looking down at her in shock and horror, that would stick with her. When the pain subsided she managed to push herself up so she was sitting against the wall.

"You need to be seen," Kingsley ordered.

"No," Hermione pleaded. "Please, Kingsley. I want to be by Spencer. I can heal this cut myself..."

He bent down and looked her directly in the eye. When he spoke it was so quietly only she could hear it. "Go to the hospital. Get the cut taken care of by the Muggles. A healer will get there before you do to give you potions for the other problem. I'll make sure you go to the same hospital as Reid. Leave against medical advice as soon as your cut is mended, but that'll get you into the hospital. From what I hear you and I have to have a talk later about him, so right now, you do what I say."

"Yes, Minister," she muttered as the gurney carrying Spencer was wheeled from the room. She pushed herself up into a standing position, and tried to look like she wasn't in pain.

"Hermione..." he groaned as he passed her, his hand reaching for hers.

"I'm here," she muttered, grabbing it and walking with the gurney.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "Are you okay?"

"Stay with me," he begged.

She looked pleadingly at the paramedic.

"You really need to be seen by someone. It's against protocol.." suddenly her eyes shifted focus, just for a moment. "Yes. I'll give you some gauze to press on that. If you promise to keep it elevated you can ride up front."

"I promise," Hermione said, running around to the front of the ambulance. She looked up at the second floor and saw Harry and Ron there, interrogating two Muggles who had been in the room next to Ilse's. Ron looked down at her and gave her a quick wink. She nodded back at him before climbing into the front seat and slamming the door. Someone shoved a wad of gauze into her hand, and she pressed it over the cut on her arm as the ambulance lurched forward towards the nearest hospital, a police escort in front of them, the two black SUVs carrying the FBI team behind.

As promised a Healer wearing scrubs was blending in with the group of doctors and nurses waiting for the ambulance. The larger team gathered Spencer out of the ambulance and rushed him inside. The healer, a nurse and an intern were waiting with a gurney for Hermione, who obediently climbed on and allowed herself to be wheeled inside. The Healer waited patiently as the nurse and intern helped her out of her blouse, took her vitals, gave her a thorough check, and stitched her arm up. They left to go get her pain medication, but the Healer stayed.

"So you caught the killer?" the Healer asked in a low voice as she pulled two vials of potion from the pocket of her scrubs.

"Yes," Hermione said, pulling her blouse, which was stained in blood, back on.

"This one is for the pain," she said, opening the first vial. Hermione shot it back quickly. "This one is to help with the effects of the curse. You'll need to take a vial every twelve hours for a week, and hopefully that will keep you from any long-term effects."

"I already have long-term effects," she pointed out, but she drank the potion anyways.

"It's probably too late to help those, but hopefully they won't become worse."

"Thank you."

"No, Ms. Granger. Thank you. I'll come find you in twelve hours with another dose."

"I'll be wherever Spencer Reid is."

She nodded. "I'll find you." She left the room, and Hermione gave her a minute as to not arouse suspicions. She finished buttoning her blouse and walked out of the room.

"Ms. Granger, the doctor hasn't cleared you," the nurse protested.

"I'll sign that I'm leaving against medical advice. But I'm leaving," Hermione mumbled.

The nurse stared at her for a moment, hoping the glare was enough to cause Hermione to admit defeat, before deciding it wasn't worth the fight. "I'll get the paperwork. Just wait there a minute."

"Fine," she nodded. The nurse walked away, and Hermione allowed herself to lean on the counter.

A doctor came around the corner with another nurse. "I think the kid has a real shot, no pun intended," he was saying. "If I didn't believe in miracles before, I do now. How that wound was already that healed is beyond me. It saved him a lot of blood loss. If it hadn't healed that quickly he probably would have bled out by now. I'm sure the surgeons will be able to patch him up."

"Excuse me," Hermione called. "Could you tell me where Spencer Reid is?"

"May I ask who you are?" the doctor looked at her.

"I'm his... partner," she answered.

He considered her a moment, then answered, "He just got sent up to surgery. The rest of the team is in the OR waiting room. Second floor, follow the signs."

"Thank you," she said politely as she scribbled her name on the form the first nurse had reappeared with, then strode off through the hospital. She came across the waiting room and walked inside. The heads of all the BAU members snapped up as she entered.

"What the hell happened?" Derek demanded. "One second we're sitting around the table, the next Reid is gone."

Hermione closed the door. "Listen as closely as you want, I'll probably only have time to tell you once, but you'll never remember it."

"How do you think we won't be able to remember this?" Hotchner asked.

"Because as we speak the teams of Aurors are modifying the memories of everyone who may have seen something tonight so it will go along with a Ministry-approved story. They're probably even giving Penelope Garcia a surprise visit right now as well. When they're done doing that, and making the scene look like the story they're telling, they'll come here and modify your memory. Within an hour you will all probably believe that Reid was shot by the unsub when we cornered her in that motel room. The story will be that I, or another Auror perhaps, managed to shoot and kill the unsub. A dead animal will probably be transfigured to look like Ilse. We'll allow the police to take over from there. You'll do an autopsy, which will confirm that she's been killed from a gunshot wound, and the body will be buried unceremoniously. Of course, it'll be our people controlling that situation, so if something seems off they'll step in with more memory modification charms. You and the police will be able to take all the credit, and in your minds you'll be telling the truth. You won't remember what really happened. You won't remember magic at all. And you won't remember me."

The team exchanged glances, then looked back at Hermione as she launched into the story of what happened. She explained everything quickly and thoroughly, and no one bothered to interrupt her. When she finished the room fell into silence for a minute as things sunk in.

"What about Reid?" Derek asked.

"The doctors think he has a good chance. I cast a healing charm on him to stop his bleeding, but I couldn't fix everything since you had called for medical assistance. People listen to police scanners, and there's probably press outside already. I had to fix enough to give him the best chance and allow the doctors to take over from there," she replied.

"That isn't what I meant," he shot back.

"The Ministry is going to want me to do the same thing to him as is about to be done to you."

"And you're going to do it? Were you playing with him this whole time? I saw the difference in him. I saw how happy he was with you, how his eyes would light up at the thought of the two of you having a future. And you're just going to toss him to the side like he's nothing? You used him!"

"I assure you," she said, standing up and staring at him in the eyes. "That was never my intention. I let my emotions take over, and I let a relationship that should have been strictly professional turn personal. I've made really big errors in judgment when it comes to Spencer insomuch as I shouldn't have let it go as far as it did, but that's only because I went with how I truly feel. Whatever I decide when it comes to Spencer, please know that I'm only doing what is best for him."

"Do you really think making him forget you is what's best for him?" he shouted. "Or is it what's best for you?"

Hermione didn't answer as several Aurors started shuffling into he room.

* * *

His eyes fluttered open. He was sitting in a light blue room, vertical blinds on the windows, generic floral prints hanging from the wall, light wood accents everywhere. He was stiff, but shifting caused a surge of pain to shoot through his right side.

"I can call for more painkillers, if you want them," a voice muttered next to him.

His eyes shot open, immediately seeking out the source of the voice. "Hermione," he smiled as he caught sight of her. She put down the file she was reading on a tall stack of files and came to perch herself on the side of his bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"Better," he said, taking her hand with his.

"I can call for more painkillers," she repeated.

"I'd rather not take any," he muttered, afraid of becoming hooked again.

"You're going to be singing a different tune sooner rather than later."

"Why is that?"

"Some prat named Gideon. Your team had to leave on another case, and he showed up a couple hours later. He's been bugging me ever since to see my files. I think he's missing the chase a little bit. He's off with one of the nurses to lunch right now, but he promised me he'd come back."

"Gideon's here?"

"Your girl Garcia can find anyone. She contacted him about your injury, and he wanted to come by and make sure you were okay. He decided to stick around when your team moved out. He just wanted someone you knew when you woke up and started recovering. Which, by the way, the doctors think will be pretty quick. For some reason or another you're mending at a speed heretofore unheard of in medical history."

"Am I getting a little help?"

"I got you into this, I should make sure I return you in the same condition that I found you in," she said with a smile playing across her lips. "Or, at least, in a condition that you will return that condition. You'll be healthy, but I can't stop the scar or thing's will be suspicious."

"How long has it been?"

"Three days," she answered. "The doctors kept you mostly out of it, because they thought the longer you rest the better."

"Is everything okay with the case?"

"Everything's pretty much closed," she shrugged. "I got chewed out for involving Muggles in my investigation, but since I caught her with your help it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. There's a write-up in my file, but that's it."

He held her hand for a minute, rubbing her palm with his thumb, feeling better knowing she was by his side.

"I told you not to use that damn gun," she muttered.

"It worked, didn't it? You caught her, didn't you?" he asked.

"But you got hurt."

"What's your cover story?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.

"That I'm on loan from Scotland Yard. That they called me in because they wanted every possible source looking for your somewhat out of control unsub. There's been a bit of a snafu in travel to Europe, so I've used that as my excuse to stay here."

"Good to know," he said, wincing as he rolled onto his side. He reached up and guided her down to him, kissing her gently at first, but it quickly became more passionate as she leaned into him. When she finally straightened up she looked pained.

"What's wrong?" he asked, studying her face.

"Spencer..." she whispered, sounding apologetic, her eyes wet. "I stuck around because you deserve to hear what I have to say, and hear it coming from me. You see my stack of files? That's about a quarter of my inbox, and it's only getting worse the longer I stay here. It's upwards of two hundred and fifty files right now. About fifteen of these are requesting my immediate presence. Not to mention they're trying Ilse next week. Well, trying is a poor word for it. She's bragging about everything. I just need to give evidence."

"So, you're leaving," he nearly choked on the word. "You're leaving for work?"

"Yes. I..." she looked him in the eyes, and became visibly deflated. "No. That's not it. You're here because of me. You almost died because of me..."

"I lived because of you," he protested.

"You wouldn't have gotten your injury if it wasn't for me! She wouldn't have picked you if it wasn't for me! You heard what she said, she targeted you because she saw you with me. She is not the only one who would, either. How can I, in good conscience, start a relationship where you'll be a target for any dark witch or wizard who wants to get to me?"

"Don't you think I should have a say here?"

"I know what you're going to say. I've debated listening to it back and forth about it ever since you were injured. It just has to be this way. I can't stand to see you hurt, and I can't let you put yourself in danger because of me. What happened the other night will never happen again, and if it takes me giving you up then that's what has to happen."

"Please, don't do this Hermione," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she replied, a tear escaping and running down her cheek. "I have to. To protect you."

He fought his own tears. "Can I ask you for one more thing before?"

"Yes."

"Kiss me."

She leaned towards him.

"Kiss me, then look me in the eye and tell me that it means so little to you that you're still unwilling to take both our emotions into account."

Another tear fell down her cheek as she leaned forward and kissed him passionately. His arms wrapped around her, holding her in place, refusing to let her go, but she managed to slip away from him anyways. She stood up, taking two steps away from the bed, eyes still locked onto his.

"I will never forget you," she whispered, lifting her wand and pointing it between his eyes. "Goodbye, Spencer."


	15. Epilogue

**A/N: So, this is the epilogue. I thought it would be best to end it on a happy note and post my original epilogue. As I mentioned in the first chapter, I wrote this whole thing in about two and a half weeks (I can do NaNoWrMo if I put my mind to it, I'm just lazy). Since then I have started 'Improbable', the sequel to this story, in which Hermione actually goes through with erasing Spencer's memory, and how they each cope with it, and how she'll react being able to remember him. That was a nice little shameless plug, wasn't it? For a while I debated combining 'Improbable' with this story and making it one long thing, but I was quite proud of finishing my story so quickly and decided to keep this epilogue and making a spin-off. My debate now is if I start posting chapters of 'Improbable' when I get a few more done, or to wait until it's done too so I can post every three days again.**

**Speaking of that, due to the large response from my last chapter, I decided to give you the epilogue a little early. Thanks times ten thousand to everyone who took the time to tell me how they liked this or to give me suggestions. As always, I'm humbled by the support this story has gotten. I'm trying to branch out a little from Twilight and HP x-overs, but I think I'm still going to stick with x-overs for a while. I like 'em.**

**Enjoy, and for a final time, please review.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The doorbell rang.

"They're here!" Spencer reminded his guests as he hurried through the house. He opened the front door to see his whole team standing there, JJ carrying her baby, Henry, and Kevin with his arm around Garcia.

"Do you guys always travel in a pack now?" he asked with a smile.

"Congratulations," Hotchner said as he entered. "This is a really nice house."

"Something I've learned in the past two months. Never, ever, go house shopping with Reid. He'll turn down some of the nicest looking places because they're not up to his standards," Derek joked as he entered behind Hotch.

"All I wanted was a real fireplace. That's the one thing that I demanded," Spencer defended.

"I don't know why it was so important that it was real. Those gas ones can look just as nice without the mess."

"They aren't as big, and having a big fireplace is just something I really wanted," he shrugged.

"Okay, kid, can we see the rest of the house?" Rossi said.

"Upstairs first?" he said before starting up the stairs. "First is the guest bedroom," he said, motioning to a room done up in red and gold. "There's the home office, the library..."

"Holy cow!" Garcia cried as she peeked in the library. Every part of the wall that was not being used by the door or window was covered in a bookshelf, and there was hardly any space on the shelves. In the middle of the room was a comfortable couch and a table with several books lying open on it. "Do you charge late fees? I might be coming here more often, I can never remember to turn in my books on time."

"For you, Garcia, no charge," he replied with a wink.

"Oh, my God, was that a bit of flirting? Who are you and where is Spencer Reid?" Derek laughed.

"Always the tone of surprise," he smiled. "The master bedroom and bathroom," he said, opening a door.

"Wow, Spence," JJ smiled as she looked around. A large, four-poster bed dominated the room, done up in black, royal purple, and white linens. There was a chair and a lounger, both in a matching black and white pattern, and a black, old-fashioned vanity was tucked away in the corner. There were some pictures on the wall, as well as souvenirs from around the world displayed on shelves. Through a door they could see a bathroom painted in the same purple as on the bed with pristine white floors and his and her black bowl sinks. "Did you design this all by yourself?"

"I wasn't allowed to," Spencer replied with a chuckle. "I got to give the final okay, but you know how it is..."

"The right answer is always 'Yes, Dear'," Rossi nodded.

"Is that what went wrong with your wives?" Emily asked.

"I'm a little more strong-minded than Reid."

"I am strong-minded," Reid protested.

"Sure you are, Spence," JJ patted his back.

"I am," he repeated as they walked past him, heading back downstairs. He showed them the family room, which featured several comfortable places to sit, the large fireplace, and was adorned with shadowboxes revealing many first-editions of books. There was a dining room, a living room, and he detoured past the kitchen to show them the finished basement.

"There's Reid," Derek laughed as he noticed the Star-Trek memorabilia hanging on the wall above a pool table and a wet bar. "I was beginning to think you might be lying about living here."

He had no choice but to bring them into the kitchen, were he was immediately confronted by a plump woman with bright red hair.

"There you are, Spencer dear," Molly Weasley said, rushing up to him with a spoonful of one of the many dishes that were covering every available horizontal surface. "Take a taste, take a taste. Tell me what you think."

Spencer took the spoon and tried the potato salad. "Delicious, Mrs. Weasley."

"Call me Molly. I'm so glad you like it, dear. If you want more, it's right over there."

"Thank you," he replied, but didn't move towards the food. "Molly, this is JJ, Aaron, Derek, David, Penelope, Kevin, and Emily, my co-workers. Guys, this is Molly Weasley. Hermione's second mother of sorts."

"Oh, you flatter me, dear. Nice to meet all of you," she said, rushing between dishes as she tried to finish cooking without using magic. "Have a cookie, too, Spencer. You look peaky."

"I'll have a cookie," Ron said, walking into the room.

"You will not, Ronald Weasley," she said, smacking his hand with a spoon. "But you may take one to your wife. She needs to make sure she's properly fed. She better be taking it easy."

"She's only two months pregnant, Mum," Ginny Potter laughed as she came in the room, clutching a fussing baby in her arms, Harry right behind her.

"Look at the cute little man!" Garcia cried, reaching over to tickle his cheek. "May I?"

"Of course you may," Ginny said, handing little James over to her. Emily and JJ crowded around, and James calmed down as he was cooed over by three new women, and he and Henry started babbling at each other.

"Fifteen minute warning, Spencer," Harry announced.

"Oh, dear, we need to get all this outside!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Everyone, could you help me start bringing food out to the back? Grab a dish, everything's set up back there. Oh, don't you worry about it, Spencer dear."

Derek, who had grabbed a large cutting board filled with roasts, burst out laughing.

"Do I really look that weak?" Spencer asked.

"I dunno, Spence," JJ laughed, bouncing Henry on her shoulder. "Want to arm wrestle?"

"No, thanks, I think I'll pass," he muttered as Bill, Charlie, George, and Percy appeared, being prodded from behind by their mother, who was ordering them to help empty the kitchen of food.

"There's redheads coming from everywhere," Garcia said, looking at Charlie.

"We're like cockroaches. There's ten of us for every one you see," Charlie winked at her as he grabbed a tray of fruit and went back to the door. "By the way, you can bring the little ones out. There's an army of small things in diapers out here, so we've got some toys and stuff to keep them occupied."

"Oh, my God! Do you see that man out there?" Emily cried out loud, looking out the window to the backyard.

"That's Hagrid. He's really nice, despite outward appearances," Spencer explained. "You should go say hello."

"Right," she mumbled, looking like the last thing she wanted to do was say hello to the giant, hairy man taking up the whole of a bench to himself.

"I'll wait in here," Spencer said as the last of the food was cleared out, and Mrs. Weasley, taking advantage of the fact that Spencer was the only Muggle around, quickly restored the kitchen to it's pristine state. He went into the family room, sitting down and pretending to look over the paper. A couple minutes later there was the sound of a car door slamming and Hermione's voice bidding her driver good-bye.

"I'm home!" she called as she opened the front door.

"Welcome back," Spencer said, standing up.

"Something smells great in here," she said, walking up to him and pulling him to her for a kiss. "Are you cooking?"

"Sort of. How was your day?"

She groaned. "How in the bloody hell Harry and Ron managed to mess up their paperwork that badly is beyond me. And trying to get through it was so frustrating. It was like they kept messing up on purpose or something."

"You want to go relax in the backyard while I finish cooking?"

"I have a better idea," she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his arms snaked around her waist. "Let me help you finish cooking, then we can bring it upstairs and stay in bed for the rest of the day," she muttered against his lips before kissing him passionately.

He groaned to himself, pushing away from her even though he desperately wanted to follow her suggestion. "I still have some cooking I have to do. I should be done in ten minutes. I have your book out there for you."

"I'm kind of in the mood to let the food burn," she said, kissing his neck.

"Hermione..." he moaned, desperate for a reason to turn her down. "How often do I cook?"

She pulled back and studied his face with suspicion. "What's going on here?"

"What do you mean, what's going on here?" he asked, trying to look innocent.

"You're hiding something from me."

"I.. Why... I'm not!"

"Spencer..." she said, giving him a look, hands on her hips.

"Is it so wrong of me to want to cook something nice for you, and wanting you to relax for a little bit? You've been working really hard lately," he protested, taking her in his arms again.

"No, I've been delegating cases at a rate I haven't done in years. Somethings up here."

"No... nothing's up. I just, I..."

"I'm going to figure this out," she announced letting go of him and walking through the house, striding out the door to the backyard.

"Surprise!" came a chorus of voices.

"Oh, my...!" Hermione gasped, hands covering her mouth before she let 'Sweet Merlin' slip through in front of the Muggles. The backyard was an explosion of balloons and signs made by the ever-growing Weasley brood and Teddy Lupin. Above everything was a banner that read 'Happy 30th Birthday, Hermione!' The guest list was dominated by Hogwarts friends and members of the Order of the Phoenix, all pretending to be Muggles because of the BAU team, whom Hermione had grown close to since she started officially dating Spencer. When she was supposed to modify his memory she found herself torn and hesitating, despite her confidence seconds before. With a little prying Spencer got her to admit that she didn't have to modify his memory if they were seeing each other, and he asked her out. It was all the motivation Hermione needed to try to make their relationship work. She was doing the same job, but she had put together her own team to avoid having to do all the work by herself, and she had cut the amount of time she spent in the field almost by half. After they had dated for a while, she had transferred her main office to the Ministry of Magic in Washington DC so she was close enough to Spencer. She officially lived in a Ministry apartment, though she spent many nights with Spencer, until a few months prior, when she and Spencer decided to buy a house and move in together.

"Do you like it?" Spencer asked behind her.

She threw herself into his arms, kissing him despite the various wolf-whistles it caused. When she broke away he was blushing furiously. "I can't believe you set this all up, Spencer. That's so sweet!"

"So, you're not mad at me for making a big deal about your birthday?"

"Never," she shook her head.

"I got some special guests to come," Spencer said, looking around. He waved at someone, and two people slipped from behind Hagrid's shadow.

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione cried, rushing towards her parents and embracing them each in a tight hug. Their relationship had improved a lot since she had started dating Spencer, they approved of her new ties to the Muggle world, and while Spencer and her parents had never met in person, Garcia had helped him set up several video-chats, and they were on good terms with each other.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Hermione's mom smiled widely.

"It's so good to see you, Mum," she smiled back. "Have you gotten a chance to meet Spencer properly?"

"We arrived a few minutes after you left," her dad nodded. "He served us breakfast and we had a chat."

"He is a nice young man. We're proud of you, Hermione. We can tell he makes you happy."

"Happier than anything," Hermione replied, grabbing Spencer's hand and squeezing it. "Speaking of which, do you think now would be a good time to make the announcement?"

"Are you.. are you sure?" Spencer mumbled. "Maybe, um, perhaps we should just wait and tell them in smaller settings," Spencer stumbled over the words in his nervousness.

"Why do it that way when we can make it now and get it over with?" she smiled. "Could I have everyone's attention, please?" she called, and a wave of silence passed over the yard. "I just wanted to tell you that the other night Spencer popped the question, so we're going to get married..."

She was cut off by a round of applause and several loud cheers being led by redheads.

"Tell us the story!" George Weasley demanded.

"The other day we were going to play Scrabble, and when I opened the box all the pieces were missing. I went back downstairs to our game cabinet to look for them, but I couldn't find them anywhere. So I grabbed a different game and came back upstairs. He had hidden the pieces, and while I was off looking for them he had written 'Will you marry me' using the tiles. As I was reading it he went down on one knee, and, yes, he did pull the ring out from behind my ear..."

Several people started laughing. "Reid..." Derek groaned with a large grin.

"He told me he loved me, and that he couldn't imagine not spending the rest of our lives together, then asked the question. After much debating..."

"Liar!" Harry and Ron shouted in unison.

"I said yes. We're looking at a fall wedding next year."

People started streaming forward to offer their congratulations. Her parents got to them first.

"Congratulations, sweetheart," her mom pulled her into a tight hug.

"We were going to come out in a few weeks. We were planning a two-week vacation, one week by you, one week by his Mum so he could get to know you better, and I could get to know her better."

"Saved you a trip then, didn't we, since we're here for a week," her dad announced.

"You knew, didn't you?" Hermione asked. "You didn't look surprised at all."

"A few weeks ago Ms. Garcia called us and asked us to set up a video chat with Spencer. Normally you're there, too, so we were surprised that it was just him. But he said he wanted to ask for our blessing in asking you to marry him."

"Oh, Spencer," she pulled him into another tight hug. "That was nice of you to do that. I know it means a lot to them."

"I knew it would make both them and you happy," he muttered, smiling at her, then giving her a quick kiss before turning to talk to his team.

"Spence," JJ smiled, hugging him. "I'm so happy for you."

"We all are," Hotch nodded. "She's a great girl."

"You just like her because she baled us out of a couple difficult cases," Spencer joked. Hermione's Muggle ruse was still that she had become a top Criminal Investigator while at Scotland Yard, and that she had retired early. She now claimed to run training classes, did lectures, and occasionally rented her services to law enforcement agencies who had a difficult case they couldn't crack. Twice Hermione had 'surprised' Spencer on a case, and both times she managed to 'magically' break the case. Rossi kept encouraging her to try to join the team, but she kept politely refusing, saying she liked the 'freedom' her current job afforded. His team had no idea she was out working on her own large inbox of cases from all over the magical world.

"You had to pull it out from behind her ear, didn't you?" Derek chuckled, shaking his hand.

"She finds it charming," Spencer defended.

"I'm glad something worked for you, then. I'm proud of you, man."

"Thanks. Hey, um, I'm finding myself in need of a best man, and I was, uh, wondering if you'd do the honors?"

"Really?" he beamed.

"You were the one who wouldn't let me not ask her out."

"Of course I will," he smiled with another handshake.

"You do realize what this means, don't you?" Garcia asked. "He's now in charge of your bachelor party."

"Oh, I.. I'm not going..." Spencer looked nervous.

"Oh, yes, you are," Derek laughed. "And it is going to be epic, isn't it, Rossi?"

"Should have asked Hotch," Rossi nodded. "Your bachelor party would have been spent playing chess or solving trivia questions."

The group laughed. Spencer looked over at Hermione, who was asking Harry to be her 'Man of Honor'. She looked up and locked eyes with him, and he felt completely at peace.

_Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better. -William Shakespeare_


End file.
